No longer a mummy's boy

For a child who, before his brother's birth, was the world's biggest mummy's boy, Zac has transformed over the last three months.

Ever since he was first able to state a preference, he has always chosen his mother for just about any activity you could care to mention: feeding, play-time, doing the nursery run - all of these were very much mummy first, with daddy a poor substitute. It's hardly surprising, given that he was breast-fed for his first nine months and indeed spent most of that period with his mother pretty much 24/7, but even so the preference has been very marked.

That's not to say I didn't spend any quality time with him - reading and bed-time, in particular - but until Toby's arrival there was always a clear pecking order, and I sat some way down it. Even so, I have always enjoyed what time I had with him without any resentment on my part.

But since Toby was born things have been much more equitable. Zac has been brilliant at accepting that he can no longer monopolise his mother's time, even to the extent of being genuinely helpful and caring around his brother. And as part of that he has started to embrace me wholeheartedly, rather than 'settling' for daddy. I now do the vast majority of his bed-times (while Heather is putting Toby down), we spend more time playing together, and he is now positively enthusiastic about climbing into my car, whether it is for one of our Sunday morning outings or just to go to nursery.

Perhaps the ultimate endorsement of my new-found status is the fact that, when he wakes up in the morning (typically around 5.30), he will always call specifically for "Daddy!" and greet me with a beaming smile and a cheery "Good morning" when I go to him.

That alone means the world to me. But then it's always the little things that make the biggest difference, isn't it?

Ps and Qs

I have developed a whole new vocabulary over the past couple of years since Isaac was born. Drat, Poppycock. Darnation. Fiddlesticks. You know the sort of thing: those child-friendly words or phrases which replace a tiny but not infrequently used subset of the English language which is best kept away from young but sponge-like minds.

It goes hand-in-hand with drilling all those other basic rules of etiquette into our children, which are frequently referred to as 'minding your Ps and Qs'.

(Incidentally, there is much dispute over the etymology of this particular phrase, with possible explanations ranging from the prosaic - children's pronunciations of "please" and "thank you" or "excuse me" - to the more obscure (for instance, a reminder to innkeepers to keep a tally of the pints and quarts their patrons consumed, or mistakenly transposing lower case p's and q's when typesetting on printing presses). Well, I find it interesting, anyway.)

What's been particularly fascinating - and funny - is to watch the take-up and correct contextual usage of such phrases by Zac as his command of the spoken word increases. Since shortly after Christmas, he has been regularly saying "Oh my God!" - accompanied by the requisite cartoonish inflection and wide-eyed expression - in perfect mimicry of his grandma. This has been followed in recent weeks by the gradual introduction of a number of old-fashioned colloquialisms such  as "Golly gosh!" and "Goodness gracious me!", all of which generate a level of amusement in any adult within earshot that encourages their repeated use.

I dread the day - which I know must inevitably come - when he turns round to us and uses a four-letter word for the first time. It will probably happen far sooner than we would hope for, and it will be one of those milestones which mark the end of innocence on his rapidly accelerating journey into adulthood.

I want my son to grow up in so many ways. This isn't one of them.

Easter

Maybe we were a bit ambitious with our Easter plans, because by the end of the long weekend both Toby and Zac were utterly exhausted. Mind you, maybe that's a good thing!

The morning of Good Friday saw us with friends at the Family Adventure Farm just south of Newbury. The original plan had been to have a bit of an explore around the place, see some of the animals and beat the rain before it was forecast to arrive in the afternoon.

Yeah, right.

I don't think we ever made it more than thirty metres from the entrance, as Zac became fixated by a giant muddy puddle, which kept him busy for at least ten minutes.

After that, there was a giant slide. I think we must have done the circuit of climb, slide, repeat at least twenty times between Heather and I. He was so enthralled by it, he didn't even mind the fact it started raining and I had to use every trick in the book to coerce him inside as the rain became increasingly monsoon-like. (It was supposed to be dry all morning, according to the forecast. Right-o.)

And then, after an early lunch, he dragged Heather outside - the rain was even heavier by this point - and ran around the little go-kart track for fully 20 minutes before we finally decided to call it a day and head for the drier, warmer surroundings of home.

Naturally, it was dry and sunny all afternoon after that. Typical.

On Saturday we did the run down to Dorset to see Heather's mum and stepdad for the day, then on the Sunday itself was an Easter egg hunt at a friend's, after which Zac spent ages bouncing up and down on their outdoor trampoline - well, standing and falling down, anyway; he doesn't really do bouncing - and generally engaging in some fairly robust rough-and-tumble with one of his friends.

Yesterday (Monday), we drove into London to have lunch with my parents, where Zac gave both his Grandpa and uncle the run-around all day. By the time we got home at about 5, it was all he could manage to eat a bit of dinner, have a bath and then collapse exhausted into bed. Toby was much the same, pretty much sleeping through the whole day - and, indeed, most of today as well.

Still, it's great to see how much Zac is growing up and his ever-growing confidence in his own abilities, and it's always fun to watch him interacting with his mates, which isn't something I get to see very often. He really is a proper boy now.

So, one bank holiday weekend down, two more to go in the next few weeks. Maybe we'll scale things down a bit next time ...