Most of my posts on here are for parents and about how to best understand young people but I rarely write about being a parent myself or my own (now not so) little ones.
But today, my youngest son and I went to a place we have been together many times before and I thought we may never go again.
Over the years we have frequented this lovely park a great deal. But during Covid times, my children grew, and grew out of going to playgrounds in parks, and we haven’t been back together since.
Today though, where I had once pushed him in his pram, where we taught him to scoot, and where he had once gazed up at me and clasped my hand, we took a walk together. This time almost shoulder-to-shoulder. He marvelled at how small the tables in the cafe looked and we both marvelled at how high he could swing himself and how he scaled the climbing wall (which used to tower above him) with such ease. It felt intensely precious.
It made me think, parenting is so often about the firsts: the first steps, the first tooth, the first day at school…but today I reflected, whether it is rocking them to sleep, helping them do up their buttons, clean their teeth or pushing them on that swing, you never realise at the time that it is the last time. Which is why it felt so poignant today. I got another chance and it meant more than he will ever realise.
