Being thankful for my kids
I’ve got a couple of blog posts lined up in draft at the moment, and both are quite depressing for various reasons. So I thought that I would just post a quick upbeat post today.
I’m thankful for many things in life. Generally speaking, the people that surround me are lovely, and I would do almost anything for them. I’d like to think they’d do the same.
But this post is about my kids. Or more specifically, being thankful for my kids. All four of them, from my eldest, who is 13, to my youngest (and the only boy!) who is 8. They provide me with more highs and lows than I care to remember. There’s not a day goes by where they aren’t in my mind for various reasons, whether that’s worrying about how they would be if they were with me on a packed tube, to remember what caused the stain on the carpet in the flat as it catches my eye for the umpteenth time.
So kids, if you happen to read this, know one thing. I love you. Always have done, always will. You have my unwavering support in everything you choose to do, and I hope you realise that your potential is limitless. It’s how you apply yourself that determines that. Yet each of you possesses enough skill, enough intelligence and enough social ability to climb higher than anyone else around you.
The ease at which you all flit in and out of conversations with your peers and your superiors alike amazes me on an almost daily basis, and I am proud to have each and every one of you call me dad.