Last night there was a small moth in the house, which had alighted on the wall in the hall. On his way up to bed I showed it to Max, who took one look at it and declared, “I don’t like moths.”
So Juliet and I explained a bit about what moths are and how pretty their wings can be (“a bit like a small butterfly,” we said, which Max really latched on to). I touched it gently to make it move and flutter its wings. All this clearly had the desired effect, because Max then turned and said, “I like moths.”
Gosh, at this rate I might become a half decent parent.
This morning Max was eating a bowl of Coco Pops and had chocolate stains all around his mouth and on his hands, in the usual manner of small children. He asked me for a sweet and I told him he could have one if he’d let me wipe him clean. He agreed and by the time I’d fetched the sweets so he could choose one he’d found the wet wipes, got one out and done a pretty reasonable job of cleaning himself up.
I know it may not sound like much to some people but I felt like such a proud father. Every little step he takes as he grows up has the same effect on me. Now, if we can just crack potty training…
I’m staying at my in-laws’ place for a few days and I couldn’t help but notice that the airing cupboard in the spare room has a handle on the inside of the door. Maybe it used to be a room for a goblin.