James Yewbeam the Second
Born 6th July 2005 to Paton Yewbeam and Julia Ingeldew.
Flyer
Mum turned 70 today. She had a nice birthday. Dad wanted to throw a surprise party for her, but we reminded him that seventy-year-old ladies aren't known for their great love of surprises. Either they faint with shock or give a long, patronising speech on how their health will suffer so much because of the shock. So Dad had every right to be smug when Mum said she'd wanted a surprise party. Twenty-four years of this stuff and yet it keeps coming.
That's the thing about us and Dad. We always think we know more about her than he does, and it's very rare that we do. He actually knows the name of her old teddy bear and we don't. It's not like it's ever going to be important. WHY DOES HE KNOW THIS?
Dad hasn't ever forgotten Mum's birthday or her favourite colour. He always remembers where she put her glasses or what she wanted for Christmas. He knows her favourite book and where she likes to eat when she's really excited and every day he remembers to wish her luck in the shop.
I asked Emma about it once and apparently he wasn't always like this. Once he married Mum though, he suddenly seemed to remember it all. And at that point baby Georgia started crying and weeing and poking herself in the eye with a spoon all at once because she's a baby and therefore has amazing powers of multi-tasking, and Emma had to help Tancred out.
But after a while, I didn't need to ask her why that was. It's love. Yes, I know they're seventy and hardly likely to show that steamy romantic love you get in those books Mum refuses to read. But love isn't like that. The Greeks almost had it right by saying there's four types of love; Eros for partners, Philia for friends, Storge for family and Agape for groups of people. But they're still off the mark. Eros can be always waiting to make an advance, or a fleeting glance, remembering what you shared or just being there in case they need you. Love can be steamy and romantic but it can also be grumbling apologies you give because you know that you're expected to love each other. And then there's the love Mum and Dad have, the love every who's been married for more than ten years has. The love where you always wish each other a good day, or wear the jumper they got you for Christmas even though you hate it. Where you look for the remote with them or insist on doing the washing up because they're too tired to do it themselves. And that's the best kind of love.