In an attempt to update you with the glorious events of the last two weeks, this week’s piece will be a rambling collection of spilled emotions and unapologetic positivity, writes Ben Keenan.
Since last we spoke, my son has mastered the art of climbing the stairs, perfected an ability to respond in the affirmative with a nod of his head and brought enough palpable joy into our home to inflate a blimp. He also gave my wife Jen and I the best Christmas present we could have received which I’ll tell you about later, ate a three-course lunch with gusto and his own silver cutlery and celebrated his first birthday with cake, balloons and the people he loves most in the world.
We were incredibly moved by the dozens of Bury Free Press readers who thought of the boy enough to present me with cards and gifts for him at work, which gives me the chance to apologise to my colleagues and customers for my frequent tearful meltdowns during December. The boy developed a moving bond with our Christmas tree this year and greeted it every morning with awe and delight. He also discovered that the gold wrapper on a Lindt chocolate bear tastes horrible and in order to get to the good stuff, it’s best to smash it to pieces first.
Tom wore several new outfits which made him look like a teenager who had been shrunk in the wash and was presented with his first official baby sized dressing gown, which makes him look so unbelievably cool.
We took hundreds of photographs during the festive season and over half of them are blurred – not because of our camera or technique, but because our son never stops moving for long enough to cement a Kodak moment.
Before I leave you this week to see if 2014 can improve on what became the best year of my life, I’ll tell you what Tom got me and Jen for Christmas. We were all snuggled on the bed helping Tom open his presents when he paused then leaned forward to kiss his mama on the lips and before I could stop my tears from flowing, leaned forwards and kissed me too. It was a gift that I will cherish for ever.