I’m at home today as my son is ill. I watch him as he lies on the sofa covered up (well part of him) in a blanket with his big feet hanging over the edge of the sofa. Where did he come from? I ask myself. This huge, great man child who I love with all my heart.
It’s a family saying.
This was a question that my mum used to relay to us as children. It became a family “thing”. “Where did you come from?” It’s hard to imagine our children before they were born isn’t it? But once they are here it’s hard to imagine them not being here. Where were they before? Were they waiting somewhere, waiting to be born?
Apparently mum asked my younger sister this once when she was about 3. Immediately she replied, “I came in a wocket!” We still laugh at this now….a rocket indeed, with a man called Robert apparently. Maybe we come and leave this world in a rocket….wouldn’t that be something!
Where did my baby go?
My son was 3 only yesterday but here he is almost grown. Where did the smiley and content little baby who slept through the night and ate his body weight in baby rice go? Where did the defiant and chatty little toddler who asked 4 million questions a day without waiting for an answer, go? Where did the cheeky and physical little boy who refused to wear trousers and took his Lego creations to bed with him, go? Where did the school boy who loved hot chocolate with cream who was obsessed with Transformers, go?
He’s still here. He’s just feeling poorly. He may now be a fully fledged teenager; shaving, texting girls, obsessed with sport but he still here. He still loves to wear shorts and eats his body weight in food. But although he may have changed, he’ll always be my boy and hopefully he’ll always want his mum to make him a hot chocolate. Well, maybe until she gets taken off in a wocket…..
OH THE JOYS OF LIVING IN THE OLD HOUSE IN THE SHIRES.