8 September 2009 – The little boy who couldn’t be bothered

He'd never have moved if it wasn't for the biscuit

He’d still be there now if it wasn’t for the biscuit

Today is Bard’s birthday, he’s twenty four! That makes me feel ancient! Really it doesn’t seem a moment ago I was tucking him up in his cot. Bard was my easy baby, he slept through the night from day one, actually sleeping is one of Bards best talents, I swear he could sleep standing on the bus. An uncharitable person would call him lazy, although he’s actually a very hard working lad, and there was a time when we despaired of him ever doing anything but laying on the floor gently kicking his legs.

Most babies start to reach milestones like rolling over at about four months. Not Bard, he just lay there gurgling happily, quite content to stay where he was put. In some ways this was a good thing because I didn’t have to worry about him getting into things he shouldn’t. By the time he was eight months old though, I was a tad worried about his inactivity and had visions of him at eighteen still just laying on his back on the floor. If it hadn’t been for the biscuit, he’d still be there now I swear.

Philo had been eating a biscuit and got a little bored with it. He’d left it on the floor, as three year olds will do. It was quite close to Bard, but not so close he could reach it. He could see it though. If there is one thing Bard likes more than sleeping it’s food. He reached out his pudgy little hand but he couldn’t quite get it. He stretched a little further, still no luck. With a supreme effort he stretched even further and, pop, he was over on his tummy tucking into a biscuit. Suddenly he saw the benefits of moving about and I had to start to think about moving things off the floor.

After my driving lesson, another trip down Shirley High Street, Commando and I went to visit Bard at his flat in town. We tried ringing first but, as usual his phone was either switched off or, more likely, out of battery, so we took a chance. When he opened the door he looked a bit surprised to see us.
“Happy Birthday,” we chorused.
“Is it my birthday?” He said, scratching his head. Honestly, he is hopeless. To be fair he has been working away a lot lately, he works for a security firm at concerts and festivals all over the country, I doubt he knew what day of the week it was.

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