He started school this year.
This is the boy who climbed me as if he were a koala on a tree, and clung on, when it was time to stay at child care.
This is the boy with the head of curls that the Japanese tourists borrowed for some photos at the Botannical Gardens, and I had to rescue and seal into his pusher at his request until we were safely away.
This is the boy who mixed his fs and his ss, so that one day, having lunch by the Yarra just after the Commonwealth Games, he looked about and squealed, "Look at all dem big Australian slags!"
This is the boy who cried with frustration because he wanted a nightie, just like his sister. And a fairy dress, and wings too.
This is the boy who hid the library book under his bed so I wouldn't find it and couldn't take it away.
This is the boy who had a Dorothy tail and a little red car and a little guitar and liked to bellow "Wake Up Jeff" every once in a while.
This is the boy who selected my Christmas present himself, a lovely fat Buddha magnet, because he thought I'd like a baby Jesus on my fridge.
This is the boy who, at McDonald's against my better judgement, yelled out in a panic, "I need the boy's toy, get me the boy's one and the 'structions!"
This is the boy who came home from the tram ride and reported, ecstatically, that he had seen Hawthornland.
This is the boy who came in when I was showering and sat at the end of the bath and tucked in his legs and asked, so sweetly, "Would you like me to have a chat with you?"
This is the boy who told me I could come up to him at the Ausskick and high-five him when he kicked a goal. "I wouldn't kiss me though," he advised.
This is the boy who started school.
This is the boy, with the curly hair and the chunky cheeks and the bright eyes with the beautiful lashes, who I lean over to wipe the dried spaghetti still around his mouth in spite of the teeth brushing when I'm tucking him into bed for the night.
This is the boy who says,
"Yer elbow's stickin' into me dick."
