Can a boy not eat an ice lolly in peace?

Not in our house. "James, you look mega cool, let me take some photos"...the look of disdain and resignation is one I am becoming used to. Maybe good preparation for what is to come!

How scary to arrive home to find a mini-me stood half way up the stairs.

Scarier still, that in his new skinny jeans, t-shirt and overshirt, that he looked so grown up.

Top it off with the fact that he starts high school in 7 months and I am close to having some sort of personal crisis about him growing up too quickly.

We are definitely cut from the same cloth. He is looking more and more like me every day.

He won't get his hair cut - he is loving the shaggy mop-top. He has developed this little affectation where he winds the hair from his fringe around his fingers and then flicks it to one side in a practised nonchalence that, even after 37 years, I couldn't replicate.

He is wise and funny and seems to be able to judge my mood and what I need from him even better than I do myself. It's like he has been here before, and so often knows just the right thing to say or do.

He has made me laugh out loud tonight which after a busy day, is just what I needed.

My boy. Perfect to me. Pre-teen already (tidy room? Not a chance.) Mature, but still childlike. Finds the balance between a listener and a talker. Runs around like a nutter, but can find time to just sit and snuggle.

He so often seems to be able to balance the different facets of his personality, so naturally.

He makes me very proud - I just wish I could stop time so that he didn't have to turn into a pre-pubescent boy, or a teenager. Ever.