He doesn’t really fit here any more. All limbs and bone. My nearly-eight-year-old boy, sitting in my lap. This used to be his space. A place he’d often crawl into, arms around my neck as his little body curled into mine. His three year old brother still fits in that space. All cosy and content.
But despite his size, my big boy has chosen to sit here. His weight awkwardly leaning against me. His legs jangling against mine. And I don’t mind. Not one bit. We both laugh at how absurd it is, but neither of us move. Read more