Rolling Stones

This, my wonderful, amazing, constantly surprising son, is a picture of us. Of you, and me, doing one of the things that I always hoped we could do together, and something that I didn't think we'd be able to do until much, much later in your life.

There's a great deal of argument, among the intellectuals and academics, about the way that children form their personality, about how they become who they are, and I am always interested to watch how you're becoming you.

I don't like rollercoasters. They cause me significant distress, not because of the g-forces or changes in direction, but because I'm not in charge of those changes in direction and cannot adequately anticipate them. When I was young, (and, truth be told, much older than you are now), this dislike manifested primarily in screaming. Loudly and incessantly.

You, however, due to a combination of the aforementioned nature and nurture, appear to be completely, totally, absolutely and utterly fearless.

As is evidenced by this photograph. This is you, age four, on, although by world standards fairly tame, a full sized adult style roller coaster. Point of fact it's the oldest continuously operating roller coaster in the world, built in 1912, and just about everybody's been on it.

Our travelling companions suggested that I was deluded in thinking that you'd be able to cope with a full sized roller coaster. They told me to put you on the merry go round, they suggested it was madness to take you on board, but you, punkin, my sweet, amazing, fearless monkey, you were adamant that you wanted to go. And so we did.

And as soon as we got off,

You wanted to go again.

And it made me love you more.

If that was ever possible.

Love you,