Sitting downstairs whilst Hubbie put our youngest 2 to bed I could hear Henry laughing and laughing. I carried on sewing whilst I waited for Hubbie to come downstairs and when he did he told me it was because Henry, whilst wrapped in a towel, had done the most e-nor-mous fart known to man. I giggled as I know that this would have made Henry’s day. Ollie, our eldest would have been horrified and embarrassed but this isn’t Henry. He’s our second son and our thug. Henry is definitely a boy’s boy…
Henry was born after a difficult birth but he was the happiest and contented baby of our 3 sons. He was big bouncy and very smiley. He was also our ugliest baby and I know this because having a had a beautiful baby where people constantly stopped me and commented on Ollie’s gorgeous eyes, how long his lashes were and just how beautiful he was. With Henry things were different I had a lot of (after peering into the pram) ‘oh, now that’s a lovely jumper!’, ‘wow! That pram looks useful!’ He had baby acne, blocked tear ducts and an enormous head so they were being more factual than unkind. He wasn’t the prettiest baby but then you do know what happened to the ugly duckling.
He was slow to develop physically. He didn’t hold his head for months, didn’t sit up unaided ’till way past the expected time and was very much on his own development chart. He never crawled (bottom shuffled a little) and only walked at 19 months – a couple of weeks before our youngest was born. He was totally different from our eldest who seemed to have read the development books and was Mr Average all the way. I do admit to being quite worried about him. Old ladies would comment about his not walking and friends with similar age babies delighted in their own babies’ milestones (quite rightly) whilst Henry lagged behind.
He would spend hours playing with one toy. He would investigate, push, pull every lever to see what it would do and this took us aback. After our eldest moved furniture at 2 to get out of his bedroom we were braced for another Houdini like son but Henry was more than happy to sit and explore his (very) immediate surroundings and stay where he was and until he walked his world was a small and very happy place. He was never frustrated about not being able to walk and wasn’t really that curious to go and see what was over the other side of the room.
The tear ducts unblocked, the acne cleared up and the beautiful surfy dude hair grew (once it stopped growing straight up). This hair is Henry and the one thing people now comment on. Well, I say the one thing but there are other things that make Henry an altogether different sort of character. Henry is proud to be a boy and all that involves. His is in awe of the fact he has a willy that can be accessed at all times. We constantly tell him to ‘leave it alone!!’ but he just grins and carries on. He asked me to ‘smell my hand’ the other day but knowing that if his hand isn’t down his trousers then it’s up his nose I politely declined. His nails are always full of dirt (and need cutting) and if there’s silence in the house you know you need to find him quickly…
He was the biter at nursery much to my horror and he used to push smaller children over using his head but gradually he has realised that making friends with other children rather than using them as dominoes is the way to go and his friends are the most important thing (apart from his remote control car) to him. He is curious about animals and in the holidays shouted that he’d ‘cut a wasp in 2’ and did I ‘want to see its bum?’ He found the whole ladybird fiasco fabulous and loved hunting round the cottage for ladybirds buried in corners, on fire places and windows. He’d shout ‘it’s alright, I’ve killed it!’ and when I came into the room I found that yes, he had.
He’s loud, fiery and still big. He’s quite a few centimetres taller than a lot of children a year older than him. We were at rugby with our eldest and were asked why Henry wasn’t joining in with the younger boys and the chap was astounded to find out that he was only 3 at the time. He loves superheroes and wants to be one when he’s older and spends hours running round in his red cape with the blue ‘H’ on the back and matching felt mask. He is super Henry as well as a happy Henry.
He still goes to bed with the blanket he coolly stole from his baby brother -walking into his room, nicking the newly crocheted blanket and taking it into his room saying ‘that’s mine!’ –it’s been washed and stretched but he still wants to be carefully wrapped up in it every night after story and winds it between his fingers whilst he sucks his thumb. Life is simplistic to Henry. As long as there is food, Buzz light-year and his remote control car with a few army soldiers and knights thrown in then all is well with the world.
What will he be? What do I see him being when he’s older?
That’s for sure. But I think my left hander with the golden surfy dude hair will be amazing at whatever he decides to do. He’s finding his feet and finding himself which is pretty difficult when you’re the middle child of 2 very confident brothers. I love the way he thinks –’Mummy, do they get all the parts of plants from the plant factory and then put them together for the shops?’ I hope that the hand down the trousers will lessen though and maybe the picking of his nose too. I am convinced he will grow into his head and as each year passes it’s getting more in proportion with the rest of him so there is hope! Maybe his nails will become shorter and cleaner and he will find pleasure in other clothes apart from ‘army soldier clothes!’ I hope I still get those Henry hugs though, I hope they don’t change. The way he holds on so tight when he gives you a Henry hug you think he’ll never let go…
Henry is amazing. He’s beautiful –see, I did mention about the ugly duckling – and I could get lost in his eyes when he smiles. He’s different from our other 2 and I love this about him. When the superhero cape has been hung up for the last time and Buzz put away in the cupboard I will still look at him and laugh about the nose picking, wasp dissecting, voice like a fog horn son who will always be my darling thug.