Filed under: America, Birthday, China, Dad, Daddyhood, England, Family, Jill, Love, New Zealand, Otis
So on Sunday, it’s Otis’ 8th birthday.
Eight.
He is basically growing up way too fast.
So fast, I wish the police would come and tell him to slow down.
It seems like only yesterday I took this ridiculous photo of him, mere minutes old …
… but here he is, 8 years later, full of life, love and joy.
He is such a wonderful boy.
Of course I’d say that, but he is.
Kind, considerate and always trying his hardest.
If anything, I wish he pushed the rules a bit more – but even his teachers say what a good kid he is. And given the challenge of recently being diagnosed with disgraphia, that’s even more wonderful to hear.
That he had started to suffer anxiety because he thought he wasn’t good enough because he couldn’t keep up with the other kids in class with writing – breaks my heart. But fortunately his teachers noticed quickly, designed a different way for him to express and contribute in class and now he’s growing back in confidence which makes me so proud.
Both of him and his teachers.
But then, where he’s concerned, he has consistently revealed his compassion and resiliance.
From moving country so many times to choosing to cutting his long hair to help ‘kids with cancer’ to being a tough little cookie when he got rushed into hospital for an emergency operation within a week of turning 7 … he’s a phenomenal human.
And now he turns 8.
EIGHT.
While there’s many thing I could wish for him this year, I think the main thing would be to continue with what he’s got.
Stability.
A safe, calm home environment.
His network of buddies and mates.
Outlets for his energy, interests and cheekiness.
A range of people who support his individual needs personally, accadmically and emotionally.
Of course he may want different things … of which I assume Superman and Transformers would feature heavily … but having a place he can continue to be connected to and enjoy is one he may – in time – also appreciate.
We’ve always known this.
And wanted this for him.
So to be able to give him it – and see how much he has blossomed because of it – is a dream.
And while we know we won’t be here forever, like all parents, what we do want is for him to be happy and fulfilled.
To not fear the unknown.
To embrace his interests and curiosity.
To feel safe in being able to express who he is and how he feels.
Maybe that’s a pipe-dream … after all, the world can be a challenging and tough place.
But NZ does offer – at least until kids are 11 or 12 – an environment where this way of life is more possible than anywhere else we’ve lived.
And he deserves that.
He deserves to be in place where he feels he can belong.
Not that he didn’t have that in other places, but he was either too young to realise its importance or we were not there long enough for him to feel it.
And that’s something I still regret.
I have a photo of him saying goodbye to his friend on our last day in America that still breaks my heart.
There he is, in his socks and on our drive – after running out the front door of our house – giving Jack a big hug after he realised he may not see him again.
The guilt I still feel about that is one I don’t know I’ll ever get over.
Which is probably what I deserve, given I was the reason for it.
I just hope Otis knows I never want to hurt him … never want to rob him of the people who mean so much to him. Which is why I’m so glad Elodie is still in his life, despite it now being filled with what seems a 1000 new friends from his school and community.
Watching that develop and evolve is one of the most beautiful and special things I’ve ever witnessed.
Sure, there’s the odd drama, but generally it’s a really happy and healthy group. Kids who look out for each other. Supportive, encouraging and just kind. They’re a better example to society than my generation … which is why I hope we don’t fuck the world entirely before they can come in and fix it.
Not that they should have to take on that burden, but that’s the generosity of that generation.
A desire to help everyone prosper, not just the usual suspects.
Of of which my son is one of them … reaffirmed by the goals, ambitions and hopes he tells us he has for his life.
Which is why I want to leave this post with this message to him.
Otis.
My wonderful, beautiful, brilliant Otis.
I love you.
Not a day goes by where I am not proud to be your Dad. Where you make me laugh at your observations of what’s happening in life. Where you blow me away with your passion and enthusiasm for life … from watching endless Kids Youtube, to your love of all things Marvel through to the way you literally transform into this powerful, confident, graceful human fish the moment you enter water.
And every little thing in-between.
You’re brilliant Otis. Proper brilliant.
Not just for what you do, but who you are.
I am so proud of you …
Proud for how you embrace life.
Proud for how you embrace challenges.
Proud for just being a kind, compassionate, considerate kid.
And as much as I wish you weren’t growing up so fast, it’s offset by the joy of seeing who you are becoming. Go forth in life with courage and optimism. It’s very easy to just be seized by the cynicism and darkness of the world … but people like you give it light.
You give it to me.
You light up my whole world.
Happy birthday Otis … you make your Mum and Dad the happiest parents in the World.
Rx
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Agency Culture, Attitude & Aptitude, Context, Creativity, Culture, Dad, Daddyhood, Differentiation, Distinction, Diversity, Education, Effectiveness, Emotion, Empathy, Equality, Family, Fatherhood, Government, Happiness, Imagination, Inclusion, Individuality, Insight, Jill, Love, Management, Marketing, My Fatherhood, New Zealand, Otis, Parents, Perspective, Prejudice, Relevance, Resonance, Respect, Social Divide, Standards, Teamwork, Trust
I recently saw this piece of brilliance …
Isn’t it awesome?
Of course some people will think it’s cute … but wrong.
Whereas others may think it’s cute … and smart.
Putting aside the fact the responsibility for clarity of communication is with the communicator, not the recipient – which means the exam board have to accept their role in the answer given – it also highlights how one persons ‘normal’ is another persons ‘lateral thinking’.
I know that sounds a big leap for what is a young kids incorrect/correct answer to an exam question … but at a time where the British PM wants to kill the arts and freedom of expression for kids in schools – in favour of even more logical and rational studies – it’s a sign how early we try to destroy/control/devalue the imaginations of the young.
What I find ironic about the British PM’s stance is that he seems to be of the belief that having people study maths for longer will make everything better.
Putting aside the fact that much of the UK’s global influence – ignoring the violent invasions of other countries – has come from the arts, that’s a big call to make.
Even more so when you consider the financial mess the UK is in right now, has come from the hands of the very people he wants to encourage more of.
As a parent this situation is very difficult.
Of course we want our children to be set up to embrace life. But if they’re all being taught the same thing … in the same way … without consideration of what their own personal talents, interests and abilities are … then are you actually preparing them to thrive or simply survive?
Recently Otis got diagnosed with a learning difficulty.
I say difficulty, but really it’s a complication.
It’s called Dysgraphia.
While this doesn’t affect his ability to learn, it does affect how he does it and what he may be able to do because of it.
We are incredibly grateful the school he goes to – Birkenhead Primary – not only embraced this situation by changing the way he could engage and present his schoolwork. They did it by specifically tailoring their classes and approach to ensure Otis could participate in ways that actively played to his strengths while maintaining the pace of everyone’s learning. And if that wasn’t impressive enough … they were the ones who first noticed there may be an area of challenge for him and were proactive in acting on it.
The impact of this approach on Otis has been enormous.
Not just in areas of his schoolwork that were being impacted because of dysgraphia, but in his overall confidence, enjoyment and willingness to participate.
He has always been a kid who tries hard and wants to do the right thing [so definitely more like Jill than me] … but thanks to his teachers, he now feels he can express himself fully rather than having to become a smaller version of himself in an attempt to find a way to get through certain areas of class that challenged him because of his dysgraphia rather than his ability.
Frankly I doubt this would have happened if we were still in the UK.
Not because the teachers aren’t as good, but because the system doesn’t allow the sort of deviation of approach that Otis’ school created for him.
What’s scary is Sunak’s attitude towards education will only make this situation for kids like Otis, even harder.
Either actively leaving them behind or setting them up for a life of anxiety, guilt and feelings of inadequacy. And yet it doesn’t have to be that way.
So many of these complications aren’t barriers to learning capacity, just accessibility.
A bit of flexibility can unlock the full potential of a child, especially with the power of technology these days.
But the schooling system is increasingly about ‘targets’ rather than learning.
Preparing you for exams rather than life.
Systems rather than needs.
And while I totally accept creating an education system that caters to the masses as well as the edges is incredibly difficult, having a one-dimensional system that ‘succeeds’ by forcing compliance and oppression is not the solution either.
What the British PM needs to understand is making kids study maths for longer isn’t going to solve the UK’s economic woes. But maybe designing an education system that enables teachers to help kids learn how to play to their strengths, is.
Or to paraphase Sir Ken Robinson … see creativity and imagination as a strength, not a weakness.
We’re so lucky Otis’ school values potential rather than parity … but I can’t help but wonder how many other clever kids are out there who have been written off simply because the system would not allow for them to be recognised, embraced and helped.
When will certain governments understand an educated generation is a successful nation?
Probably when they understand school should be about learning not teaching and it’s an investment rather than a cost.
Filed under: Babies, Cats, China, Dad, Daddyhood, Family, Fatherhood, Home, Jill, Love, My Fatherhood, Otis, Rosie, Singapore
Look at that photo.
Look at my kids.
Yes, I appreciate one is a cat, but she isn’t to me.
She’s my demanding, complaining, cranky daughter who – bizarrely – is also a grandmother.
But only in age.
While also being Otis’ ‘kitty sister’.
We had Rosie for 7 years before Otis came around. And when he did, everything changed.
I remember how Rosie couldn’t work out what was happening. Especially how Jill was behaving.
From ruling the roost, she was now playing second fiddle to this screaming object that seemed to be awake at all hours of the day.
Rosie’s way of dealing with it was to sulk.
She would openly shun Jill before blindly following her every move. Blatantly craving the love and focus she had enjoyed for 7 years while pretending she didn’t care.
I felt sorry for her.
I’d talk to her a lot and gave her extra hugs to ‘equalise’ the attention and adoration being given to Otis.
And while you may think this shift in hierarchy could make Rosie hate Otis, she never did.
I’m not saying she loved him, but she put up with him.
However Otis found Rosie fascinating.
He thought she was AMAZING.
But babies don’t know how to treat animals which is why we paid a bloody fortune to have an identical version of her made as a cuddly toy so he could learn how to be gentle with her.
While the identikit cat didn’t achieve the desired result – I would often find him swinging the toy version of Rosie over his head by the tail – he never did anything bad to the real thing.
He loves her. Adores her. Is thrilled every time she pays the slightest bit of notice to him … regardless how small or short.
And I love that.
I love how they have found their own relationship.
Not expecting anything from each other but accepting what each other wants to give.
It may have started as a forced relationship, but it’s definitely a family now.
My family.
I get some people will read this and think I’ve lost the plot.
And maybe I have.
But family is more than blood. It’s understanding.
The good. The bad. The quirks. The demanding.
And when you find the level where you’re able to float with all of that, then you’re doing pretty well. It’s not always easy, but its always worth it.
Which is why I love spending my my time with them – and their Mum – every weekend.
Oh and one last thing.
To Dave …
I’m thinking of you.
I wish I had something I could say that would shield you a little from the emotions you’re facing, but for what it’s worth – know I love you. And love them. Rx
Filed under: Attitude & Aptitude, Comment, Dad, Daddyhood, Family, Fatherhood, Jill, Love, Otis
I was going through some photos when I came across this …
It feels like a million years ago, but it’s less than 2 years ago.
It was taken around Christmas 2020 …
We were living in England and we’d recently bought that house.
We knew we weren’t going to be in it for long as I’d accepted the job at Colenso … but we wanted to enjoy it as much as we could while we were there.
And so we did.
But the snow added a new dimension to the experience.
It came down a lot over a few short days and so for the first time since I had left the UK 25 years earlier, I was in a place that had enough snow to mess about with. For Otis, it was the first time he could … the first time he properly experienced snow … and after he’d accepted it was bloody cold, it was a bloody challenge to get him back indoors.
Oh the fun.
Snowball fights.
Building snowmen.
Slipping and sliding.
It was amazing.
All topped off by us getting into our giant hot tub in the garden to get warm, while it snowed around us … which was a bizarre – yet awesome – feeling.
And while that house is pretty much isolated in the countryside, so the small roads were all ice rinks, something about that week made the whole thing even more special for us.
A chance to connect to that house. To build a memory with that house. To be a family home.
And yet, when I saw that photo it seemed like another life.
A world away from the one we live in now.
Yet it’s still our home.
We may well one day return to it.
And we still utterly love it and its garden.
Lots of people talk about their ‘forever home’. I get it …
But the reality is while a place you grow roots in, is very important … the thing we forget is we have to do the work. It doesn’t happen by itself. Those 4 walls require the interaction of the people in it to build something worth remembering it for.
And while that house only had us in it for 6 months [so far] that photo will forever remind me that sometimes, that’s all you need.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Apathy, Attitude & Aptitude, Content, Context, Culture, Dad, Daddyhood, Emotion, Family, Fatherhood, Home, Jill, Love, Mum, Mum & Dad, My Fatherhood, Otis, Rosie
I had a blessed childhood.
I had unconditional love … continuous support and a caring, family home.
But I never got Electronic Battleships.
Hell, I didn’t even get to play shitty paper battleships.
And frankly, I didn’t care except for the fact when I was a kid, the idea of an ‘electronic’ version of anything was cool so I wanted it.
Then there were the sounds it made.
Or at least the sounds it made on the TV ad.
Holy mother of god. This was 25th century technology.
Kinda.
But did I get it?
Did I hell.
Oh don’t get me wrong, I was spoilt over the years with a lot of electronic stuff …
Blip. Demon Driver. Astro Wars. Philips G7000. Game and Watch. Merlin. Tin Can Alley … which was the most rubbish thing ever made.
But no Electronic Battleship.
And the only reason I was able to deal with it is because I never really liked board games and my Dad hated them even more … so even if that wasn’t the case, only my Mum would be available to be an opponent and war was not something she rightfully wanted to encourage.
For 52 years I lived perfectly well without having Battleships in my life until one day I came home and found Otis had got a set and wanted to play.
Not Electronic Battleships [still being denied all these years later] but battleships all the same.
So we sat down at the table … facing each other and prepared to unleash naval hell on one another.
I should point out Otis had never played Battleships before.
I should also point out he’s 7 years old.
So you’ll understand why my view of Battleship has evolved from indifference to hate because 37 minutes after commencing our game, my son had blasted all of my stupid, crappy, cowardly ships out the water.
Crap game anyway.