He wanders off into the kitchen
I can hear him scrabbling about in the Kitchen drawers. I know he is trying to make a hole in my conker, so that he can fix the string. I know I should help.
I am tired.
There are some banging and scraping noises in the other room, lots of grunting and a bit of sawing. There is silence and then more banging, some scrabbling around, but no cries for help! After a few minutes I stop what I am doing and go reluctantly into the kitchen.........just in case.
But no need. He has successfully made a hole and a knot and presents me with my prize winning conker. I look at his tools. The end of the whisk from the electric mixer, a huge carving fork, scissors and a knife. There is no blood. There is not even a scratch on the worktop, he has used a chopping board! He has grown up, and I hardly noticed.
We played conkers - his way - and as the wine began to unwind my soul, we abandoned the conkers and played air guitar to very loud music. We had fun.
Last night, he was mine