So tomorrow is your first day at daycare.

I can’t decide if it’s the emotions or the planning that have me undone.

And all over again.

I realise.

Soon I will look at the window and reminisce about the days when you would play with the soil and a bucket of water. As if they are so long gone.

Soon it won’t be you and I in the bath. It’ll be you and then me. And please – spare us the bullshit of parents and their babes sharing a bath. There is no room for that in this little corner of the unorthodox keyboard.

Soon I won’t rest my head in your lap and you won’t arch your head against my back.

Soon the world will take over. The years will slip.

As much as I can’t wait for the diaper phase, the whining phase, the not sleeping phase to be over, I know the end of each phase brings an end of your childhood. Of our us-hood as we know it today.

The peek-a-boos, the churtles of laughter, the cheekiest, tenderest of smiles as you escape our telling off.

All gone by so fleetingly fast.

So my darling Aru.

When you look back and wonder why your wife is so undone as your own child begins his first step out of the home and into the world, away from her grasp and into another’s, perhaps you’ll be surprised to read this and feel a little tear seep.

Because of course, your Papa felt it too. All of it.