What did I do with my evenings before I had a baby? I started settling Will at 6.45 tonight. By 7.30 he was flailing around on the bed – MY bed. Once he’d flailed into the worst possible position for me to attempt the bed exchange he promptly started snoring. Cue the neighbours’ kids calling out right outside our window. Which led to me singing Baa Baa Black Sheep until all noise died down (I used to have visions of humming Leonard Cohen songs to him, but somehow the old classics are far more effective. I’ve sung Row, Row, Row Your Boat so many times the words have lost all meaning. And that’s a pretty thought-provoking song). Anyway, 8 o’clock and I’m out and sipping on that glass of red. I know some babies take a lot longer, but I couldn’t help but envisage (to the strains of Baa Baa Black Sheep) my writing time disappearing – my characters waving forlornly on the receding shore, as the time-for-writing ship sails irrevocably away.
But then I look down at his lovely, golden head and I think – can I imagine anything more pure and beautiful than the love I have for this little boy? Why hurry to slip into a dream, when here is this amazing being, breathing, right up against my side as if we’re still one? There’ll plenty of time for dreaming. I don’t want to miss these moments with Will – that make me feel I’m living the most remarkable dream of all.