Baby Bird's Blossoming

Time off work is always nice to have, but last week I had the extreme pleasure of three days spent entirely with Oliver, the little man. This was the same week in that Stephanie and I found out which primary school he’d would be starting in September. The combination of these events and the things that I surprisingly learnt about Oliver led me to ask the question - where on earth has our little baby gone and just where has this little boy come from?

Of course I perfectly understand the concept of time and growth, but it continues to amaze me when I see our little boy doing everyday things of his own accord. Like running over to piece of play apparatus in the park and hanging himself upside down unassisted whilst I run over in blind panic thinking that he is going to fall, snap his back and crush our world around us. But he is fine, totally in control of himself and swinging happily, with the agility and strength of a monkey.



On Tuesday past, we visited Riverside Country Park with my Mum and Sister, alongside my youngest niece and nephew which not only gave me a great insight into their everyday lives, gave me a chance to see Oliver on a “normal” day, what he gets up to whilst Stephanie and I are at work.

Before we left, having breakfast together I asked him if he had any interesting dreams in his sleep the night before. “Of course! Daddy”, he said, as if I had asked him a stupid question, which it probably was, but when queried further he went on to recount it, in his own, unique way; “I was being chased by a crocodile over a waterfall, and I went falling down, really, really fast and had to hold onto the crocodiles tail so that when I landed I wouldn’t crash, but splashed really, really big, up into the sky”.

It was blatantly obviously that this was being made up as he went along, which made for very humorous listening, you could almost see the cogs whirring along in his mind as he told back his nocturnal tale, but I couldn’t help but wonder; where had this imaginative streak come from? How can I nurture this?



Whilst out at the park, Oliver and his two cousins were having a great time playing with all the equipment, throwing themselves at the trampoline type mesh in the ground, or hurtling down the slide in as many different ways as possible, backwards on their bellies, forwards on their backs but headfirst - just like we used to do when we were kids. No encouragement needed, inherently ingrained into our human makeup that when four years old and confronted with a slide, one must attempt to slide down it all ways possible.

“Come on then Oliver” I said, “we are going for a walk along the river”, “But I don’t want to” he replies “it’s boring!” Oh dear, gone with the nappies and Farley's rusks, a command to do something will never be completed again without an opinion or counter argument. Walking is no longer seen as “cool”, he now knows his own mind, would rather swing, slide, climb, run and get dirty than walk along a tow-path staring at reeds, mud and the tide as it ebbs further out to sea leaving nothing but the pungent smell of mud and rusty shopping trolleys behind.

If there is one pleasing aspect, at least for me about Oliver getting older is that he has finally started using his bedroom for how we intended it. With his little plastic ball, he can spend a good hour at a time now running around the astro-turf carpeted room practising his shooting skills into his makeshift goal that we spent so much time investing in creating for him. I’m sure before the year is out, we may well hear once again from Oliveria Birdinho, Oliver’s footballing alter ego as he retells his early training sessions at Camp Nest!



It isn’t all physical feats that surprise and delight, Stephanie and I were shopping last week at Bluewater for Mothers Day and stopped in TGI Friday’s for something to eat. Oliver being with us was given a goody bag to keep him entertained until our order was ready and the subsequent breaks inbetween courses.

In the bag was a booklet of games and activities, one of the games, consisted of questions aimed at children under ten. He asked me what it said and what was it, so I read through and found a couple of the questions that I thought he’d be able to cope with “name 3 parts of your body“ I asked, “erm”, he replied, cogs visibly whirring once again, Stephanie and I waiting expectantly, guessing he would say things like arms, legs, mouth, eyes etc but no, out came “bones, skin” and looking at me, glancing at my face and saying “eyebrows” as if it was looking at me, was the first thing that came to mind (if you see me any time soon and notice that I have a neatly trimmed and manicured mono-brow you’ll understand why).

And so, in four and a half years, our little baby has grown, gone through his formative toddler years and is now ready to start the greatest days of his life, at the same primary school I myself went to not so many years ago. A little boy who I thought had an addiction to sweets but learnt he hadn’t and that it was Apples he can’t get enough of. That his levels of logic exceed and are consistently higher than those of his mother, no doubt due to the sprinkling of PlayStation and iPhone related entertainment as well as the more traditional jigsaw puzzle pastimes.



But whilst Stephanie and I lament the loss of those carefree days, we can celebrate, along with those who have helped and continued to assist by offering their services as child carers of a job well done and that together we have brought up a unique and individual child who will no doubt continue to surprise and amaze for many years yet.