…or so it would seem, I have big boys. Not small boys, despite what I might say in general conversation when asked if I have kids. I’m struggling to get my head around the fact that I have a 9 year old, but it’s on the cards and the cards never lie. Never mind the pictures which are whispering that I have a very handsome 9 year old who is going to break many a heart (mostly mine I suspect) in the not too distant future!
9 seems like such a very big age. It’s the last single digit age. It’s harder to find acceptably cool cards for the birthday boy. It’s an age where this particular 9 year old has very clear ideas about what is cool or not, especially when it comes to hair and fashion (short hair, not long and chinos – tan or red – just in case you were wondering!) It’s most definitely an age where Daddy is King and Mummy just trundles around in the background making life happen as 9 year olds would wish it!
As all good parents should, we have done our best to instil an appreciation of that which is good, that is, products with fruit logos on them! Actually, that’s not strictly true. The iPod touch has been requested time and again for a couple of years now and we’ve said no for a number of reasons. But I suppose, as with all things, there comes a time when there are fewer reasons not to do something than to do it, which is where we found ourselves at age 9. And so a new Apple product has joined the family! And boy has it ever been made to feel welcome!
And while part of me is inwardly freaking out at another source of media to be monitored on a daily basis, the wiser part of me knows that all is well when a new cricket bat is greeted with such enthusiasm!
And so the countdown to that double digit age has begun. In the interim I expect to encounter any or all of the following:
:: a hand that assumes the permanent shape of an iPod touch;
:: much cricketing, especially now he’s joined the local under 11 side;
:: a lot of hair gel from the pound shop (it’s the only way we could afford it!)
:: ongoing snuggles on the settee at the end of the day (this better feature or it’s going to be a trickier year than anticipated!)
:: further bickering with the younger sibling;
:: more lessons in disappointment as the love for Liverpool FC is unabated;
:: magic tricks being fine tuned for anyone willing to participate;
:: more independent fashion/hair/shoe choices;
:: arguments over any of the above;
:: to be further amazed by all that this boy does and by the fact that we actually made him!
On which note I shall finish. Except to say that we also made this one – hard to believe there’s a genetic link, really!