Twenty-one years today my second son, our third child, arrived into the world.
Not easily. He insisted on sleeping at the most inappropriate time.
He still does.
Just a few days old, a paediatrician friend took him in her arms and said with great authority: “big head, lots of brains”.
That’s something every mother likes to hear. (Not the big head bit – I already had first hand knowledge of that fact).
Well, twenty-one years later, he’s now in his final year at University. And I have absolutely no idea whether he’ll get a first or a third class degree. And he’s not giving away any clues.
Contrary is his middle name.
When he was doing his GSCEs and A Levels he scolded me every time I asked about revision.
He said that as soon as I said it, it made him not want to work.
Okay but that’s just mean. A mother needs to know these things.
I needn’t have worried though, because he got the grades to get him into a very good university.
I’m hoping that he knows what he’s doing again this time.
I’m really hoping that this last 3 years hasn’t just been about socialising and living on rice and peas.
That he’ll get something apart from experience to show for the student loan and overdraft.
Even if he doesn’t want to do anything with it afterwards.
I trust him.
Happy Birthday Rob x