Songs For Your Mother Gordon MacMillan (good books for 7th graders .txt) 📖

I find myself laughing at the next few lines of Lauren’s note that I read as I agree entirely about cauliflower (what’s the point?). Luke turned out to be Lauren’s ‘one vegetable baby boy’.

I’m grilling fish fingers, although if you’re Luke, and American, then they are fish sticks – because, as he told me in Tesco, ‘fish don’t have fingers’. This is a fair point and one that I’d never thought about before. How on earth did we end up calling them fish fingers? I make some sweet potato mash and steam the broccoli and then we are pretty much good to go.

We pause the movie, and we eat at the small table in the kitchen. I put BBC 6 Music on the radio and think about what Lauren played him. What would they have listened to together? I’m sure she would have played him music all the time, as well as having to tempt him at other times with an iPhone and YouTube Kids, which always works for TSP.

When I serve up the plate and put it in front of him he tells me right away that he loves ‘rockoli’ and I tell him that it’s my favourite too.

‘Is it because of you that I like it?’ he asks.

I shake my head, ‘I don’t know. It could be, although that wouldn’t explain why I like it?’

‘Why do you like it? Did your daddy like it?’

When Luke says this, I feel a pang of loss. I have no idea what my dad liked, although I doubt broccoli featured highly in his diet. For me those small parcels of knowledge, that connective tissue that make relationships real, are wholly absent when it comes to my father.

‘You know, I don’t think he did, I didn’t know him that well, which is a shame. So, I’m not sure what it is. I like it,’ I say.

‘That’s why I like it,’ Luke says throwing his arms out.

‘Right,’ I say, ‘because it tastes okay, but it doesn’t taste great does it?’

‘I don’t mind the taste,’ he says shaking his head.

‘Same here. I don’t mind the taste, and I figure if I’m going to eat a vegetable on a regular basis it might as well be this one.’

‘Because they’re good for you,’ Luke says.

‘Yes, they are, and rockoli will make you as tough as rocks,’ I say.

He pauses and looks at me and doesn’t say anything. He gives me a goofy grin, which I take to understand that he doesn’t believe my dad joke about rocks. I’ll have to reconsider my approach. I’ve always been under the impression that you could tell small kids anything and get away with it. The truth appears to be that five-year-olds are savvier than you would think. My lame jokes won’t fly. I’m going to have to work on my material, which might turn out to be comprised solely of ‘dad jokes’ before I even knew I was an actual real-life dad.

We watch the end of the movie, and I show Luke where’s he’s sleeping and where I’ve put all his things. I’ve already prepared the room, removing the guitar back to my room, and putting on the desk light and angling it into the corner. I’ve already Googled and Amazon-ed a proper bedtime light based on Lauren’s list of things that I need right away.

After Luke has washed his face and brushed his teeth, he gets ready for bed. He gets in under the covers and I ask him if he is going to be okay in here. Luke nods and doesn’t say anything, and I stand there thinking I should ask something else.

‘Do you think you’ll sleep alright here?’

‘I think so,’ Luke says. ‘What are we going to read?’

I was prepared for this question, having read Lauren’s note on the bedtime routine and the importance of sticking to the routine as much as you can. She wrote that he loves stories, and reading to him before bed was one of her favourite things for them to do together. Lauren gave me a long list of books. Some they had already read together, and that he loves, and plenty of new suggestions to try. Tonight, it is Where the Wild Things Are. It was one of the books that Luke brought with him, and on the cover, it has a note from Lauren saying ‘Luke loves this book’. Next to the words, Lauren has drawn a little heart and coloured it in. I peel the note carefully off and place it on my desk. I want to make sure I keep everything I have from her. I want to hang onto it all like it is a priceless artefact, as it is all that I have.

I don’t read for all that long, maybe only for ten minutes before he is yawning. He turns himself onto his side, curls up, and falls asleep.

I love that Lauren read to him and I know that I’m going to enjoy this part. I love books and stories, and there’s something unique and rewarding about reading aloud to other people. It’s a shame somehow that it only happens between parents and small children when really, we should be reading each other stories throughout our lives.

I tiptoe out of the room, and for a few minutes I stand outside the door, sliding down onto my haunches, and I listen.

I head into the kitchen, and I get a beer from the fridge. I take a glass from the cupboard and sit down to some news. I don’t watch for long; before I’ve even finished the beer, I’m yawning too. I turn the TV off and sit and think about how long and strange this day has been and how it feels like several days have been crushed into one. This must be part of the reason why I’m exhausted. The other is that my emotions have been wreaking havoc since Luke’s arrival.

I wonder if every day will be like this and if this is