Sometimes I think you have a genetic make-up closer to that of a tank than your sister. Sure, you look similar as brothers and sisters tend to do and after an initial period of Miss 2 pounding the crap out of you at every opportunity, the pair of you get on great. (If being friends with a piece of precision military equipment were possible.) I also know that you will get your own back many times over.
A few months ago, you were in your highchair making a mess as kids tend to do and the family was buzzing round doing what it is that families do. In your wisdom, you figured that if you slid down through the highchair, you could get out the bottom of it and be off. You were discovered after about 10 seconds of backs turned with just your hands visible holding the tray, your head and torso hidden from view somewhere about where your bum should have been and your legs and feet kicking freely below. The scary thing about this is that there was no noise, no crying, this was part of your plan. You knew exactly what you were doing. Now, we never forget to strap you in.
We were in Auckland for Christmas and the T-Rex Exhibition was on the second floor. You wanted to get down and crawl so I tried an experiment. Let's see how far you can go...
You started outside the entrance to the T-Rex and made a beeline for the stairs. Up you went, pausing briefly to say hi to people you passed, then cracking up at your friendliness, you carried on. Four flights of stairs later, you were on the third floor of Auckland museum and halfway through the Vietnam section of the Hall of Memories.
At this point, enough was enough, time was getting on and I scooped you up to take you back down to the family who were just briefing the search parties. Reunited with your family, you struggled to get down from my arms and bugger me if you didn’t head straight for the stairs to do it again!
Back in Wellington and as I write this, you're in bed after a morning of carnage. At one point, you fell head first into your block box with only a grunt of displeasure at having being upended and you're sporting a scratch on each side of your face. These scratches were administered by two different cats and to be fair to the cats boy, you had it coming.
This I'm assured, is boys and it's great. We all like a bit of spunk and fire in an individual, I just hope your care-to-the-wind attitude has eased a little by the time you learn to drive my car.
Happy birthday Joey, you're now taking your first steps, you are the only boy in our family to carry on the Smart name, you are the spitting image of your Dad and this means so much more when I grew up without a Dad of my own. You are the little brother, the second child, but you are my number one son.