I have been trying to write this post for months, but it has been left lying dormant in my drafts folder. I’ve thought about it a lot, but when it came to the writing I couldn’t get beyond the first line. At least I couldn’t until last night, when I had something of a lightbulb moment.
Here’s that troublesome first line:
“I never realised how physical it would be, having a little boy.”
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I’ve been feeling a bit guilty recently about not being more involved with DorkySon’s nursery. Because he only goes two mornings a week, he misses quite a lot of their big events. We did make it along to watch his nativity play before Christmas, but we didn’t make the Christmas Party or the Santa visit, and last week we missed the Easter Bonnet parade too.
So when one of the staff asked a few weeks ago if I would come in and do a twenty-minute storytelling session for DorkySon’s class, I felt obliged to say yes. We agreed a time and a theme, and I knew that with a couple of weeks to prepare I could come up with something fairly informative but entertaining too. All was well… until I shared the news with DorkySon.
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One of DorkyDad’s poems is called One of the Questions Coming – and it’s a lovely, funny piece where he imagines how he’ll respond on that inevitable day sometime in the future when DorkySon asks him if he ever did drugs.
We have not reached that stage of questioning quite yet, but DorkySon has hit me with a few curious toddler curveballs recently, and my parenting skills are being tested to the max. Never mind all that stuff about how to put on a nappy or burp your baby – where’s the chapter in the textbook that tells you how to answer when your son asks ‘Why don’t you have a penis, Mummy?’
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Every so often we seem to go through short spells where DorkySon makes lots of developmental leaps at once. You’d think we’d be used to it by now, but we’re not; DorkyDad and I are still left looking at each other in shock, and asking where our little boy has gone.
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We were walking through the park the other day when DorkySon suddenly stopped and let out an ear-piercing shriek.
“What is it?” I asked.
“There’s a squirrel,” he said, pointing, and shrieked again.
I’m confused. We see squirrels most days on our walks through the park, and they don’t usually provoke any reaction.
“What’s wrong with the squirrel?” I asked.
“It’s going to steal my toys,” he said, before grabbing my hand and pulling me quickly past.
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Dorkymum | Stories from Tasmania 