My first grandson, Oscar, born just before Christmas, has an elder brother and two elder sisters, all aged under six. Including his mum, whom I’ve only recently met, this meant five extra presents to be chosen, wrapped and delivered on Christmas Day. As I’m still a stranger to the majority of this family, I wanted to make a good impression by handing out good-quality, competently wrapped presents. On Christmas morning I went round to their house bearing a gold paper sack containing the results of considerable thought and effort.
The sitting room was ankle-deep in wrapping paper. Oscar’s brother and sisters were out of control with excitement. The boy was doing short sprints from a standing start, halting abruptly and, by going flaccid at the neck, trying to get his head to flop off.
Before I’d taken off my coat my boy had presented me with the baby.
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