A Letter to my Boy.

Issac,

You’re six months old now and you seem to do something new nearly every day. I couldn’t be more proud of you. I know that all babies and all parents go through much the same processes and feelings at this age or thereabouts, but you’re the only one who’s mine.

Every time I see you do something you’ve not done before, or try your hardest to perfect something you’ve been working on for weeks I can’t help but smile and/or break into tears. Right now you’re trying so so hard to get up on those knees and start crawling and you’re almost almost there. Every time you manage to raise yourself up on your knees and try to hold that position for as long as possible, before faceplanting into the mattress, or usually the floor, my heart swells with pride. Or when you’re doing it and you pause for a second and look up at me and your mummy, big smile on your face, drool dripping down your chin, but with a look of sheer determination on your face (you get that frustrated frown from me, sorry), sometimes how happy I am is too much to bear.

There are days when I honestly can’t quite believe you’re here. That these last six months have been some amazing dream I’m going to wake up from. It usually happens when I’m just sitting watching you try out something new, and I realise that I’ve been just staring at you for ten minutes. Or when we’re playing horsey on my knee. Or when you laugh your head off when I sing the theme to The Pink Panther while you get your nappy changed. Or when you smile that big beautiful smile when you watch mummy and daddy dance around the kitchen like idiots just to make you smile that big beautiful smile. 

But you are here.

And you are mine.

And I love you so very much.

Dad.