Tonight my son smiled for the first time. He was trying all day but slipping back into wine-taster style gurning at the crucial moments. Mr Thatwoman, a good friend, me – we all tried to elicit a cheeky grin and had no luck. We were mere fools and amateurs.
Spider-boy however, was a pro. He was stalling at bedtime by telling jokes and larking about which, as we are crappy parents when it comes to sleep and discipline, is now an established part of his routine. Tonight, however, we decided to beat him at his own game. We lay the baby in his bed. It was an hilarious jape, of course, a baby sleeping in a big boy’s bed! But funnier, it seems, for the baby himself who allowed his first milky breathed smiles to erupt as his big brother, and his big brother’s well worn monkey ‘Gummy’, smothered him in giggly kisses.
Later, as Mr Thatwoman and I started our nightly ritual of fruitlessly trying to calm our youngest while he shouts and screams into our stupid fat faces we realised the truth of our ordinary evening: we’d just experienced what might be one of our most remarkable joint memories. Our sons making each other laugh at bedtime. Howzat.