Trying to put a belt on my four year old is undeniably harder than grappling with a twenty foot python. At least, that’s my experience although admittedly I did have two other men helping me with the python scenario. Not that two or even four other men helping me try to put a belt on Noah would make a blind bit of difference to the outcome. The ensuing wrestle is rapidly becoming a no holes barred mixed martial arts affair and whilst the python might have the edge on any squeeze factor, strength in numbers wouldn’t faze Noah for a second.
What was once a funny, sweet nose grab when he was two, closely followed by the traditional ‘beep’ noise, has suddenly manifested into an eye wateringly painful pinch that makes me drop to my knees in silent agony. The beep is somewhat delayed, higher pitched, and uttered with the deep sense of relief that my nose is still attached to my face. A bundle of muscle leaping around the kitchen has suddenly outgrown the weight of a heavy sack of feed and that jumping on your head, adds a new dimension to the morning routine.
I’ve got to toughen up, no doubt about it, and I have the sinking feeling that time is slipping by. He’ll be five before I know it and I still won’t have been to the gym – what chance do I have.
I was sitting in the landrover with a client the other day, who had hopped in to give me directions to his yard where I was going to cut a couple of stallions. As we chatted, it transpired he and his mate were seriously into the bare-knuckle boxing scene. His mate had in fact been in a 48minute fight the previous day in order to settle a family dispute and aside from idly wondering what could happen if I messed up the stallion castration, I pondered how long I might last in such a contest.
As I looked closely at his friend, I decided that in that particular contest, probably not very long – I’d have to somehow dig out some long lost reserves of feral edge, double my size and even then, I think the power of a swift jab of horse anaesthetic might be required to even the odds. However, it dawned on me that if it did all go horribly wrong, I would just have to make some calls and unleash Noah and the python to enable me to escape unscathed. Thankfully, no such phone calls were required and it was quite a nice morning in the end.
As a result of all this though, I have now resolved to do some training. As in all great ideas, this is going to take some planning and planning takes time. So I’ll keep you posted and I’m going to ask Noah to line me up some sparring partners – max age 4.5yrs. Hopefully, I’ll be able to at least get the respect around the house I deserve, but until then, I’ll just have to stay in the background, know my place, let Noah learn to put on the belt for himself and patiently wait my turn for a go on the inflatable water slide…