Last Tuesday

The day started early, it was probably before six when I began to stir.

I was startled by the accompaniment of fifteen month old Brayden - who had managed somehow undetected to scramble his way from his bed which rests adjacent to mine into the empty space next to me (usually occupied by his ‘mommy’) before settling back to sleep in an evidently preferred spot.

I suspect the fact that his movements could remain oblivious to my comatose state may be attributed to the fact that I do not possess the acute hearing of a maternally instinctive woman. Or, perhaps,  it is simply a case that my paternal instinctive senses have faded due to the ‘leave it to her’ approach that I tend to adopt when I detect a stirring baby.

I lay in solemn bliss, drifting in and out of slumber before the playful and boisterous Brayden awoke at his usual time of about seven a.m. He pursued his usual morning activities - which includes exploring the full functional range of the TV remote, (usually altering settings that I didn't know existed and have no idea how to fix). Once he tires of this, his other morning ritual is to spoil around the house like an intoxicated rock star in a hotel room looking for something to dismantle, this is something that he particularly enjoys and carries out with commitment and dedication.

After breakfast, (which is always quite eventful). 

Brayden accompanied me to the local park where I par take in some regular leisurely activity (namely, Team Red Training). Brayden, being the adventurous type, does not hesitate to join in. His youthful imitation of his daddy and friend’s press ups, leg raises and pull ups etc actually transpires, albeit partly - as a one year old circuit training. After our trip to the park we returned home for lunch and some (mostly on Braydens part) running around the house entertaining oneself with various toys and other more potentially dangerous objects, needless to say the sentence: "No Brayden leave that alone!" was used repeatedly.

As the day passed, Brayden and I grew restless in the limited constraints of the family home. I decided a further outing was required to stimulate our minds and what better than his first trip to the barbers for such an excursion.

Unbeknownst to his non consulted mother we headed to my regular barber Nas’ shop, for haircuts, good advice and lollipops.

Slightly taken aback by a strange man with a sharp buzzing object aimed in his direction, Brayden squirmed and wriggled his way through his first haircut which turned out surprisingly neat considering the challenge that Nas, the barber, faced at the hands of young Brayden. A lollipop and a carton of juice soothed the shaken youngster as I took my turn in Nas' chair.

On the way home I deliberated over whether to attend the fortnightly creative writing group that is frequented by Demola and I. My ‘mommy’, Brayden’s ‘nanny’ was more than happy to babysit, but in truth, after my tiresome day I was more inclined go home and relax in front of the TV, especially as the football was on. I must admit that Demola’s decision not to attend due to his feeling under the weather heavily influenced mine.

So, Brayden and I sat and watched Manchester City battle it out with Ajax and an unrelenting referee as we ate dinner. I reclined, a proud father quietly revelling in an institutionally nostalgic moment. A well timed bedtime cup of tea or “up-a-tee,” as Brayden puts it, along with various other allaying methods sent the usually sleep reluctant youngster soundly off to sleep.

What to do now? I pondered, before referring to an endless to-do list that had taken no place in the day so far.

David, TCC