On Wednesday, Joanna and I drive to London to visit Elisabeth and Robert and their new son, William. We find the newly formed family in good order. William’s other grandmother, also Anne but to be known to him as Nana, is in residence and it is lovely to see her. In his Nana’s arms, William looks quite like her. He is wearing a blue striped baby-grow I provided, and a very fine lacy cream jacket knitted by Nana ( my daughter has been well brought up!! )

Holding him on my knee, I can see changes in him over the week. His jaundice has disappeared and his skin would be the envy of any cosmetic house’s model. I can feel that he is heavier and indeed he devours his food with noisy gusto. And his eyes, which were baby blue last week, are so dark this week I wonder if they will be brown or green. He still has large hands and feet and his grip is powerful. Last week, when he looked at me bending over, he just saw ‘a face’. This week, what he saw was ‘a face that is not my mother’s.’ When Elisabeth speaks, he turns his head in the direction of her voice. He is her son and she is his mother.

I was amused to hear that she had flung the ‘breast-feeding app’ out and decided ‘just to get on with it’. William seems to be managing his end of things quite competently without the benefit of ‘Baby’s app on how to have adequate nutrition from only one woman’.

He is as yet largely an untold story. Will he appear calm like his father, or will he have fearful  rumplestiltskins  like his mother, or even rarer episodes of nuclear winter rages like his grandmother? He appears fairly calm at the moment, so only time will tell.

We eat a delicious lunch cooked by Nana. William falls asleep and his parents and grandmother look as if they could just sink into a wonderful nap, so we take our leave of them. When I say Good-bye to the boy, by coincidence he raises his hand, as if in a gesture of farewell.

Angels and ministers of grace defend him!


About adhocannie
I am a good natured woman with a long memory and a swift tongue. I like loooking at things and thinking about them. Also food, clothes, travel, reading, sewing. I try to see the ridiculous in things, but sobriety of reflection keeps edgting in. I have husband, children, grandchildren, friends... I feel rich in things that matter. I am a happy exile. I like writing. I do not like talking about me (though I do.). You willl be much more interesting.

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