My eldest son is a chilled kid.
Always has been and I hope he always will be.
He takes life in his stride.
Makes friends with ease and doesn’t have a bad done in his body.
Loves science and his tortoise is a constant source of entertainment.
The only thing that has ever really thrown him is having to play rugby last year.
He settled into Devon life and it’s like he has always been at his school, but getting out on a muddy pitch terrified him.
He isn’t a big kid, but he does have a huge heart and when he was so worried, I knew I had to take it seriously.
Maybe it was the thundering of bigger boys running towards him.
The chill of the wind on the wilds of Dartmoor.
Being lost in the scrum.
The fear of being hurt.
I think it was a combination of them all.
Tears pitch side, sleepless nights and not wanting to go to school weren’t Eddie’s style so we took the issue up with his teacher.
This term it’s smiles, running into school and all with a hockey stick and special shin pads.
We decided there was no point going through the same trauma all over again, so this year Eddie gets changed with his mates, but instead of heading out with them, he joining the girls for hockey.
The only boy in a sea of girls and you know what, it doesn’t phase him, doesn’t bother anyone and his best friend thinks he is cool for making a stand.
This week I will stand pitch side and watch my dear boy play in a hockey fixture and my heart will burst with pride as he makes his own steps not only in a sport he likes but in that holy grail of equality that we so often hear girls fighting for, but it’s almost a taken boys have it.