Notes to Sparty #13

Dear Sparty, 

Today you are ONE year old! Time, my sweet little boy, has flown by. (you will probably hear this phrase a lot throughout your life and it’s true. Life can seem long but it is also maddeningly fleeting). It seems like just yesterday we were holding you in the west wing of the OLVG West hospital in the west of Amsterdam and yet, here we are, a whole 365 days since that amazing December morning. 

So much has happened in the meantime. For starters, you’ve grown taller and bigger and you’re almost talking now. A few months ago, you said your first word, and these days you have entire conversations with us using that one word. Soon, the rest of the words will come and then you can finally tell us exactly what it was you wanted on those occasions when you sat bolt upright in bed at 1 am and then refused to go back to sleep. I know it must be frustrating to have these two people just stare at you with no idea what you’re saying, but don’t worry- it’s not going to be a problem for much longer. 

What else have you been up to? Well, in the past few weeks you’ve also grown teeth which we now brush every morning and night. Please make sure you’re always doing this; teeth are really important and eating is not much fun if they’re either hurting or missing altogether (and your dad knows a little about both).  

And! you’re now crawling all over the floor at top-speed and you’ve also learned to stand on your own. You’re trying to walk too, but that’s going to take a little more practice. Then there’s the little dances you do when you play your keyboard, the clapping hands when your favourite song comes on, and the laughs and giggles that you leave in your wake as you move from one terribly important task to the next. 

We’ve also been in planes, boats, trains and cars together. We’ve climbed to the top of cathedrals and dipped your toes in the sea. All in all, it’s been an amazing year. Sure, there’s been a few little bumps in the road (and a couple on your head) but all that’s just part of growing up. There’s been some tears too, but if my rough maths is correct, the smiles have outnumbered the tears by 100-1. In this coming year, we’re going to try and improve that ratio even more. 

You’re fast asleep right now, but when you wake up we’re going to sing you ‘Happy birthday!’ and after your breakfast you’ll be off to nursery to see your friends. Your mum has made little gift bags for them, there’ll be a special crown for you to wear, and there’ll probably be more singing there too. Then once you’re home we’re going to have a little party with a few slightly more grown-up friends, all of whom can’t wait to see you. It’s going to be a lot of fun. 

You won’t remember any of it (don’t worry- we’ll have plenty of photos for you to go through when you’re older) but if there’s one thing you must remember, it is this: You have enriched our lives in more ways than you will ever know. I can’t wait for what lies ahead. 

With lots of love on this special day and always. 

Your dad.

Around 20 years ago (which is my new favourite way to introduce an event from the past without betraying my age), I was spending time with my grandparents while on holiday. I was officially staying with my uncle and aunt, but during the day or in the evenings I would make the short trip over to my grandparent's house and hang out with them before my uncle or someone else came along to pick me up. 

This worked out pretty well until one evening when it was time to leave and I started to say goodbye. I hugged my grandmother before turning around to my grandfather to let him know I was heading off. I think I said ‘see you tomorrow?’ (framed as a question) or something to that effect, at which point he looked up, considered it for a second or two, before shaking his head and making a sound that basically said ‘No’. 

It’s worth mentioning here that my grandfather, who I’ve been told was a fairly quiet man his whole life, had by this time suffered a double-stroke that had left him unable to speak altogether. And so for as long as I knew him (which was nowhere near long enough) his modes of communication were sounds, smiles and twinkles in his eyes. We knew when he was saying yes, but this was a firm No; i.e- I don’t want you to leave. 

I asked him again, thinking maybe he hadn’t heard me properly the first time, and added some extra details like the fact that it was nearly dinner time and I should really get going. But again, it was the same shake of the head plus the sound. At this point, my grandmother stepped in to inform (rather than ask) him that I was leaving. Different phrasing, but still the same reaction. After a few more minutes of trying to make a case for my departure, it was clear my grandfather had come to something of a binding decision in his mind: I was to stay the night at their house. 

‘Is that what it is?’ asked my grandmother, seemingly incredulous that this otherwise somewhat aloof man was suddenly fixated on his grandson’s sleeping arrangements. This time the answer was a vigorous shake of the head and the sound for ‘Yes’. It was done. The man had spoken, in a manner of speaking. 

All these years later, I can still remember sitting back down in my chair and looking over at him as a little smile flashed across his kind face. And I remember feeling a special sort of feeling that I’ve only felt a handful of times since. 

One of those times was a few nights ago when I walked into the room where my son lay sleeping next to his mum. I was there to pick up something and head back out, but before that I leaned in to give the little man a mini-hug. As I did that, his little hand came out from under his own head and made its way around my neck. I could tell he was fast asleep, and yet, the more I pulled away, the tighter his grip got. Finally, as I tried in the dark to pry his hand off, he made a sound that reminded of that same sound all those years ago. Softer, and not quite the same timbre, but similar nonetheless. 

My grandfather had lost his words before I was old enough to talk to him, and my little boy hasn’t found his words just yet. But to be loved and wanted even without words- is there a better feeling than that?