A great scoop for gossip central? Nope – this my friends is my eldest son, Wombat and he’s 16 years old. His real names Tom but I’ve called him ‘Wombat’ since a baby.
I remember his birth like it was yesterday (especially the stitches afterwards!) and the way when he was 18 months old he’d stand and point at buses shouting ‘DA!’ (and if it as a double decker ‘BIG DA!’) .
Somewhere along the way though he’s turned into a young man and now hugging my ‘little boy’ if like hugging a rather burly bloke. Recently we spent a weekend ‘bonding’ at the Isle of Wight Festival, drinking smuggled in vodka and orange and marvelling together at the wonder that is Iggy Pop. Wombat even held on to me in a Foo Fighters mosh pit when I started to get swept away with the sweaty throng! We talk openly about relationships and even sex and considering that we’ve lived apart for the past 7 years we’re very close indeed (this may be because I have never had to nag him to get up or to clean his room...)
He’s been staying with us this week and it’s been great to have him around, he’s good company and a really attentive big brother to Bean and Ozzy. But I have to admit this morning I had quite the embarrassing ‘don’t know where to look moment’ when he walked into the kitchen at noon (when he had just woken up) in just his boxer shorts and gave me a hug.
His grubby little childhood chin has been replaced with stubble, his golden short hair replaced with long straight ‘curtains’ – and to my horror his ‘downstairs’ that I must have wiped clean thousands of times appeared to be hanging just south of the edge of his boxers ! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
My boy has officially become a man ! EEEK !