be my lucky number seven

Today was the birthday of my eldest son and he has reached the grand old age of seven years old. It doesn't seem that long when I look back and I can clearly remember the night he was born. He arrived about 1.30am in a bit of a whirlwind. It was a quiet night in the hospital and not too many women went into labour that night. As such there was a surplus of student nurses and firemen who had to see a delivery in action as part of their training. Because of this my son had an audience of about a dozen people when he arrived. He didn't seem to get phased by it.

I left the hospital around 5am to go home and get some sleep. Because it was so late I didn't think it was appropriate to ring people with the good news, however I couldn't contain myself from telling the taxi driver who was bringing me home. He didn't seem too bothered.

I remember that he was pretty small (a lot smaller than now anyway!) and if I held his head in my hand he didn't even stretch down to my elbow. It's hard to believe that he's the same little fella.

Happy Birthday son.