Took the afternoon off of the writing yesterday, because otherwise I’d start forgetting what my son looked like. I took him to the pictures to see ‘Toy Story 3’ as it transpired his dad hadn’t taken him to see it. I made the foolish mistake of assuming he would have done. But apparently not.
This is now rectified. Having already been to the pictures to see this with Dearly Beloved, I went prepared and took tissues. They were needed, because not only did the damn film reduce me to tears again, but Small Son was having a mighty fine sniffle as well. I think it’s the bit about leaving behind your childhood and all the things you held so dear. I still have my favourite toy: he lives upstairs next to the bed and stares at me with his glassy-eyed, lop-sided majesty all the time. I entirely intend to have him there forever.
The film finished, we met up with Dearly Beloved and headed off to Chiquitos for a meal. I love my boys very much and just wanted to spend time with them rather than as the grumpy ‘will you please shut up’ voice that they’re coming to recognise as being me in writing mode. We had a very nice meal and then, on the way out the door, the waitress caught my arm.
‘I just wanted to say what a nice son you have,’ she said. ‘He’s so polite! It makes a change.’
It’s always nice to be told things like that. I take particular pride in the fact that both myself and Small Son’s father are bringing him up to be a decent human being. It’s always lovely to have that moment of affirmation, though.
He’s a good lad.
In other news: word count = 13,330.
That is all. Please go about your business.