There are a lot of signs around at the moment informing me that this Sunday is father’s day. ‘Dad wants a recliner’, they say, ‘Dad wants boots’. ‘Buy Dad a nook for father’s day’. All week the supermarkets have sported ‘Dad’ themed cakes and cupcakes, including one luridly iced one resembling a BBQ grill. I am happy to say none of these have made an appearance in this house, although I know Michael misses his recliner.
Today is also the day, seven years ago, when Michael and I caught a train from York to Leeds together, and came back holding hands. This was a very good thing indeed.
Seven years, and many adventures (and countries) later, we are three, not two. We’ve learnt to paraglide, visited each other’s homelands, weathered some storms, and learnt how to soothe an overtired baby. I love both my guys dearly. Michael is doing a superb job of this fatherhood business. Felix is always so happy to see him when he comes home from work, and no one can make him laugh quite like Michael can. Here’s to another seven years, my love. x