Looking back, I can see that the boy-child’s life is all about movement.
His transition from seemingly endless restless nights of crying (his and mine) to the Holy Grail of “sleeping through” was almost instantaneous and co-incided with his learning to walk. Walking became running, climbing, jumping, swimming, gymnastics, soccer, skateboarding and – for a while when he was teaching himself to Moon Walk – dancing.
And as fast as his body goes, his brain is always that little bit faster. He has never been a peaceful child, so I treasure this photo as one of the few where my darling, clever, funny son is both awake – and still. The secret? We were on a train; his first long(ish) distance, non-commuter service train ride – from Melbourne to Ballarat.
Trains were my son’s great childhood obsession. His first words were all transport-related. He loved Thomas the Tank Engine, and would happily play with his train set for hours, days even. He was capable of almost hysterical excitement at the prospect of catching a train into town, and even went through a stage of wanting to drive around Auckland looking at level crossings. But the experience of being aboard a train (or tram) has always been an oddly calming one for him.