For Harry on your 10th birthday…

Harry,

Of all the birthday letters I sit here and write each year, I think yours will always be the hardest. For every tear I have cried over your siblings racing through the years, I have commiserated myself with the fact that at least there was you, our last little dove. It turns out, despite the fact you will always be my baby boy, sooner or later I had to let you grow up too and today, at ten years old, it’s time to accept that you are doing exactly that and I’m not going to lie, it breaks my heart just a little.

I’ve been sat staring at this screen for the last hour trying to find the words to sum up just who you are at ten years old knowing that whatever I write will never be enough. You are the most straight-forward but complex character I have ever come across, a walking juxtaposition of chilled out but excitable, easy-going but regimented, oblivious but intuitive, independent but clingy, happy but thoughtful, the list could go on. There has been so much pressure to fit into the boxes presented to you as standard, to accept labels and stereotypes and comparisons to others, to make changes to who you are to allow others to understand you better, and I love that you have emerged oblivious to it all, every bit as wonderful as you were this time last year, every bit as “Harry” as you have ever been. And I wouldn’t change you for all the world my darling boy.

And it’s all of your Harry-isms that make you so special not just to us but to everyone you meet. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, if everyone could see the world in the same way that you do there would be no bad days for any of us. I think most of us can only dream of a life where we wake up each day without a care in the world, where we go about our days without seeing the negatives, the unpleasantries, the things we would change and the things we still wish for. I think most of us would give just about anything to be truly happy in any given moment, to never dwell on the past or look too far ahead to the future, to just be completely and utterly satisfied with all that we have and never feel the need for anything more. You are so wonderfully unique Harry and the most incredible part of it all is that you have no idea just how special you are. We adore you, that will never change.

And the most special thing about you Harry is that as much as we adore you, you adore us unconditionally. I remember even as a small baby you would look at me with those big brown eyes and I would literally bask in the warmth of your love. At ten years old that has not faltered and you will still be the first to hold my hand or shower me with kisses at the end of a long day, to sneak into my bed for one last snuggle on the nights you cannot sleep, to sit on my knee during long meals when your head starts to get tired, to throw your arms around my neck and refuse to let go. I’m not foolish enough to believe that these outward expressions of love will last forever, but I hope to always hear the words “I love you Mama” no matter how big you grow.

The last twelve months have been jam-packed with adventures and yet the thing about you Harry is that none of the big things really matter, it’s all about the small stuff. Whilst you undoubtedly enjoy each of our travels and the amazing experiences we’ve shared, ultimately the moments you take away from that are the minor details the rest of us may take for granted. If I asked you to share your favourite moments with me from this year you’d tell me about the vanilla ice cream you had in Salou or the rocks you scrambled up and down for hours one afternoon on the beach and bruised all your legs in the process.

You’d tell me about beating the girls on the electric go-karts and how fast you took the corners, you’d laugh at how Meggy got angry but then give her a big hug and tell her she came a close second. You’d tell me about going on the loop-the-loop rides at Port Aventura, forgetting your disappointment at not quite being tall enough for the biggest ones there.

You’d tell me about our Summer in Vias, France and how you spent a week sliding down the water slides so fast you took the skin right off your back, about the day we went horse riding at the ranch and the owners cat fell in love with you and the feeling was mutual. You’d tell me how happy you were to see chicken nuggets on every menu, about the rare occasions you strayed from vanilla to Oreo ice cream, about the off road safari and how you spent the whole time with your head sticking out of the window and your tongue flinging to the side like a warm dog on a hot day.

 You’d tell me about our many bike rides as we sailed the Canal du Midi, how speedy your bike went downhill, how it felt to feel the wind in your hair, how tired your legs felt at the end of each day. You’d tell me how much you loved driving the boat wearing the captains hat, how satisfying it was to lie on the front eating a bag of ready salted Lays crisps, how every night you’d climb into bed beside me and we’d hold hands across the small gap until you drifted off to sleep.

You’d tell me about our days spent in Spain and how you had to shelter in every doorway to escape the heat, about the cobbled lanes that looked like something out of a Harry Potter Movie and the many times you fell over as a result. You’d tell me about the pain au chocolat you ate every morning or the Mcdonalds we searched for in Barcelona, about the magnet you agonised over from a little stall at the side of the road ready to take home and place on the fridge.

You’d tell me about our week on the Isle of Wight and the seagulls that almost snatched up your sausage roll, about the playgrounds we visited, the swimming pools you swam in, the parks you kicked a football around in until the sun started to set. You’d tell me about the hot tub talent show you’d insist on hosting every evening at the lodge, even when we’d done it the previous six nights before, and how Eva got angry because she claimed you’d stolen her act and you wouldn’t back down even though you knew full well she was right.

You’d tell me about the last day of Summer and how I surprised you with Teddy and how you couldn’t believe that he was ours to keep forever. You’d tell me how much you love it when I lift him into your bed at night for a cuddle, how happy it makes you when Teddy and Oscar rush to greet you after school, how much you love the two of them way more than you ever imagined you would.

You’d tell me about sailing to Holland for October half term and how much you loved Efteling and the rickety wooden rollercoaster that gave us whiplash with every turn, about the hot dogs you’d eat and the warm chips in paper trays, about our sprint to the lodge to try and beat the takeaway delivery man when we got lost in the woods. You’d tell me how desperate you were to try a Stroopwaffel in Amsterdam but panicked at the last minute and had a cookie, about your fascination with bicycles chained to every railing, about the hot chocolate we shared when we ended up in the wrong hotel and the cosy beds with the telescope when we finally found the right one.

You’d tell me about Christmas in London and the bag of wine gums you ate whilst we watched The Lion King at the theatre, about the brass band at Covent Garden that played the Jurassic Park theme tune, about eating Venchi ice cream in knitted gloves with your lips turning blue. You’d tell me about getting to open the bauble on the Christmas tree back at the hotel, about them surprising us with our own tree in the room, about how magical it felt to fall asleep to the twinkling lights and your little hand in mine.

You’d tell me about celebrating New Year in the Lakes with Nanna and Grandad, about your absolute excitement when Lewis came to stay and you played pool for hours and hours on repeat. You’d tell me how hard you tried to stay awake for midnight, how Daddy held you up for a photo as the clocks struck twelve and how you couldn’t even remember climbing the stairs to bed the next morning.

You’d tell me about our tree house in the woods and your joy at finding the perfect walking stick, about lazy days on the beach when you waded way past your wellies, about climbing trees and dirty knees and long car journeys home with two muddy dogs and us all singing along to the radio to songs you had never heard of.

You’d tell me about playing chess in the sunshine at hotels you’ve long forgotten, about aerial assault courses and adventure playgrounds, about swimming pools that made your teeth chatter and red hot saunas we’d sneak you into. You’d tell me about playing tik tak toe in coloured crayon on the kids menus, about noughts and crosses tournaments and making paper planes; you’d tell me about the cheesy garlic bread and the chunky chips that came in their own metal chip pan and how you licked ketchup off your fingers and smeared it across your face.

You’d tell me how skiing was still your favourite holiday you’ve ever been on, about how fast you took the red runs and how you skied right from the top in a white out. You’d tell me much you loved having Lewis beside you for an entire week, about the “boys room” you had next door and the little snack set up you had going next to your bed. You’d tell me about your insistence we played the alphabet game each night at dinner even when the rest of us were exhausted and just wanted to eat, you’d tell me, “I’ll start, A for…”.

And you’re tell me that today. turning ten years old in New York city, was by far the very best way to celebrate an entire decade of Harry and I’d tell you it was only every bit as special as you deserved it to be. From eating your body weight in Dunkin’ glazed donuts to going to the top of the Empire States building, sailing a yacht along the River Hudson to watching your first basket ball game at the Barclays Center, it has been a week packed with firsts.

From bike rides around Central Park to hunting for dinosaur bones in the Natural History Museum, watching Wicked together on Broadway to visiting every film location from your favourite movie Home Alone 2, I hope it was everything you’d imagined it would be. And as everyone sang happy birthday to you today on The Ride driving through the streets of New York, I know it won’t be the sky scrapers or the craziness of Times Square that you’ll remember, it will be the smiles on our faces, our arms around your neck, your little hand in ours, and the knowledge that at ten years old you have never been more loved by all of us.

I’m sure that ten is going to be every bit as wonderful as nine was, perhaps if we are lucky even more so than that, and yet I think we all know that you’d be just as happy to spend the entire year sat at home on your gaming chair, wearing your favourite Mario pyjamas that I’d had to replace in the next size up twice already, eating a tub of ready salted Pringles shouting at Edward on your headset. You don’t ask for much and yet I will keep on trying to give you the world; just know I always will.

Happy 10th Birthday Harrison Joseph, here’s to another year of being unapologetically you.

We love you all the stars in the sky.

Mummy

xxxxxxx