Day 6 and 7

I have come to realise that I'm not much of a diarist. More talented diarists may have been able to write more interestingly and eloquntly about my week as a single parentn. Perhaps they could have touched on the changes encountered, the greater need for rythmn and planning in each day and even spoken of the greater bonding between son and father. This would have led to the description of how Cameron seems more of a little person than a baby and that I can clearly see his personality. Unfortunately I wasn't that good. Friday was an interesting day for me since I was really under the weather but had to go to work. The day couldn't end quickly enough but when it did and the sun was shining I collected my child and went on our daily amble around parks in our area. He ate heartily on returning to the house and then pottered about on his play mat for an hour. I should probably have interacted with him a bit more at this stage, pointing out that the green thing in his hand was in fact a green "square" with the number "three" on it and it goes in that particular slot of the big thing which is  called a "house" and you retrieve the green thing through the other thing called "door". That sort of thing. I just left him too it since I was rather tired. Bad Daddy. Bad. I roused myself enough to bathe him, after all we needed a clean baby to greet Mum.

Mum returned from deepest darkest India safely although encountered a number of delays, not least at London Heathrow airpport. She was simply transferring from terminal to terminal but of course it is not a simple thing these days what with all the security checks. So what used to take 20 minutes took an hour and a half. She mentioned to me that there were a number of American tourists in the queue in front of her that grumbled constantly about the time it was taking and questioning the need for all the security etc etc but she was too tired to remind them of certain events that necessitated all this "inconvenience". How easily some people choose to forget when it's not convenient for them. Eventually I was able to collect my wife from Dublin airport and head home in the rain and heavy traffic. My wife didn't mind. At least she was not being constantly stared at by a thousand or so people in the street, every street, which was a nice change. Before meeting my wife, as I stood with the herd in the arrivals area, I bumped into some friends who were returning from Liberia for a short break at home so it was good to say hello and we will meet  next week for a catch up. So the family unit is together again and all is well with the world. My diary of the week is at an end and whether it has any worth is debatable. I remember having great intentions of keeping a diary of the time I was in Sudan but I didn't have the energy to write doen my thoughts each day so this is the one and only journal I have kept in my entire young, handsome life. Chalk it off to experience and try again. It can only get better.