Son is 13 today. Would you believe it? That's my toddler! And, after waiting patiently on the cusp of adolescence, he has finally become a teenager.
I can't believe it was 13 years ago that I was flat on my back in that delivery room, huffing and puffing, dying for a fag. Painfully delivering a boy child into the world. And did I get a word of thanks? Did I Shoot?
For his birthday, he got a BMX and an Inbetweeners book (filth!). The cat got him some coloured gel pens, and his sister got him a PC game. And he had m&ms and Coke for breakfast!
He put his Inbetweeners book in his school bag, and set off happily for the day. The promise of a Burger King tea followed by birthday cake keeping him warm on that silly little bike.
When I was 13, I got one of those crocheted waistcoats. The older ones of us will remember these were all the go in late 1971. Mine was bright red with tassels hanging down. I also got some Holy Cow tights. White thick ones, with holes going down the side. The last word in chic round our way.
I also had a Ben Sherman shirt with a button on each collar, and it was yellow with blue checks. A bit last-season, and it was my brother's old one.
I also had, like, a feather cut. Thankfully, this style has not been brought back into vogue at all. Where half your hair stays long, and the other half resembles Rod Stewart.
Every year, this first teenage one being no exception, my mum made a fruit cake with pink icing on top. Never did like it, but I ate a bit anyway. And every year I would tell the woman I couldn't stand this type of cake, and yet she would still make the thing.
However, to give her credit, I would get chops and chips for tea. So it wasn't all bad really.
I didn't smoke then. Still had a couple of years to wait for that one.
Son really doesn't know he's born. Couldn't see him in a crocheted waistcoat anyway!