The front seat
I’m waiting for Toby to get off the train at Park Road Station. If I collect him from here he doesn’t have to catch the train all the way to Southbank and then a bus and then a cold walk home. It will save him an hour and a lot of energy and I will get to spend some quality time with my son – even if it’s only 10 minutes. I don’t know about you but as they get older – he’s now 23 – those special moments with your children are just that – so special.
Is it that my mum is in her late eighties and I am seeing her beginning to fade and with that comes the realisation that I will be a member of the oldest generation in our family? Is it that I see the wings beginning to flutter and the urge to spread them and fly away from home stronger? Or is it that I just love my children’s company, their sense of humour and the ridiculous, as well as their passionate opinions on Donald Trump and global warming?
Talking to sons in cars is good. You are both facing forward and eye contact is not necessary or sometimes even desirable and downright dangerous TBH. Things tumble out as you merge, slow, give way. Advice can be given and received more readily, calmly, openly. A hug might even happen at the end, but a “thanks for getting me mum!” is just as precious.