25 July 2013

Growing young princes

I gave birth to a young prince, too. The Duchess of Cambridge cannot possibly be loving her baby boy more than I did mine.

How things have changed for us 10 years later. I still adore him, but now sometimes he leads me at times, instead of me tending to his every need. He has become a strong, lithe young goat!

Recently we went for a walk that became an adventure. We strolled in a convoy of three out to the head of a tiny peninsula. Jack spotted rocky cliffs at the sides and climbed down. Indoor rock climbing walls are for babies, he said - this is the real thing!

He urged Anna and I down, too, saying he could see a path. But the path evaporated, and we were left with a clambering, leaping, precarious affair, during which a fall could have left any of us with broken bones or a head injury. Anna repeated to herself "I will not give up" (her mantra for life, I think). I panted behind the children, trying not to sound too much like an aged disapproving mother.

Because at heart I wasn't disapproving. I don't want our lives to always be sterile and safe! People have been climbing rocks forever, and in so many ways we were better off there than in a safe, sterile shopping mall.

 Plus, Jack gave us the greatest entertainment. Inspired by the fact that our next stop was a gelato cafe, he commentated throughout in an Italian accent. "Come on, I will show you zee way to go," he announced. "Eet eez eeezy... unteel you get to the hard bit..."

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