‘He takes after his father’. I realised recently that I often utter these words about you. Usually to do with the fact that I think you’re going to be tall like James (who, if you ask, will always say he is 6 foot 3 and a half). I also say it when you beam at the women who coo around you, giving them your most charming smile (your father also has an easy smile for the ladies), and referring to how content you seem.
You are only five months old and already I liken you to your father, which makes me wonder about the many ways you will be like James. And what you will take from me (and your grandparents, aunts and uncles). What are the pieces of us that are embedded in you? I can already see that you are going to be extremely strong-willed and determined (again, like your father) but will you love sports like he does? Will you be a bookworm? Will you over-analyse everything like me?
What an incredible thing, to see parts of yourself in another human being; to see something that you do mirrored back at you, to realise that part of you is written there, etched into their bone. Of course you will be your own person, with your own loves and dreams and idiosyncrasies. But I hope that you do take after your father in many ways. When we lived in Italy, James worked in an Irish bar where his boss, Massimo, used to say, ‘Everybody love James’. And it’s true. I hope you are as gentle and kind-hearted, and as loved, as he is.