You know how you quietly suspect your babba is special and you tell him a million times a day? But taking compliments on his behalf feels akin to nodding enthusiastically when someone tells you, you are beautiful? You can’t quite believe they are talking about you, so you brush it aside, just as when it comes to kids there is the teeniest little suspicion inside you that it is entirely possible that your child has been blessed with the kind of face or temperament that only a Mother could love, and you my Sweetheart could be that very Mother…

Today when I went to pick Finn up from nursery, his teacher took me aside and said "We wanted you to know what a very special little boy, Finley is." And I smiled and said "Why thank you, but haven’t you noticed his face is always dirtier than the other kids?", and she smiled and said  "Not only is he unusually bright and inquisitive for his age, but  he is kind  and thoughtful too and these are qualities we don’t see often in children today."  And I laughed and said "Bet you don’t see many snotty noses like his either?", and she laid her plump, Motherly hand on mine and said, "Miss May, he is a rare child, a very rare child indeed."

And I pulled my sunglasses over my eyes and squeezed her hand and wondered why nursery teachers always smell of biscuits, and hugged my rare baby bye bye and ran out of school quite the proudest mommy on the planet. 

A rare child. My rare child.

Oh do accept my apologies for showing off in this fashion. I feel like telling the whole wide world…

(P.S: He is having his  "precious  curls" trimmed for the first time in the morning and I suspect the hairdresser may discover for himself what a rare child Finley is too. Expect blue murder.)