One of my favourite memories of No 1 Son being born – apart from the moment when he was placed briefly on my stomach, a screaming ball of fury – is seeing him in the cot next to my hospital bed with a drip on one of his little hands. He’d been in the SCBU with his dad, and then he was brought back to me and we all went up to the ward. He was asleep, but every so often he would knock the side of the cot with his hand. I remember marvelling at his perfect hands (and toes).
And then, that moment when they grip your finger for the first time – or take your hand in theirs when they’re crossing the road.
I have watched those hands hold bottles and all kinds of food (I love how dimpled his hands were when this photo was taken)…
…and toys, and books, and crayons, and pens, and play the piano, hold tennis rackets, balls, the recorder, his fencing sabre, Guitar Hero, proper guitars, and endless computer games, from Gameboy to XBox 360.
And now those hands are much bigger than mine (here they are holding his cousins’ pet hamster on Sunday).
But he’s still my baby.
*This is my entry for the Gallery and the theme this week is ‘hands’.