Don't panic!

I have discovered several new emotions since Harry arrived on the scene; from a feeling of pride when Harry does something well, to the sense of hopelessness you feel when he's ill and you can't do anything to help him.

However, one of the most powerful emotions is panic. When you suddenly realise something is wrong, it's as if the pit of your stomach has just dropped out – rather like being trapped on a particularly violent rollercoaster.

It happened to me last weekend when we took Harry to Chirk Castle. He was tearing up and down a ramp, completely oblivious to my warnings about tripping over and hurting himself. As I stood watching him, he tripped and fell landing, chin first, with a thud.

Fortunately he wasn't hurt and was back on his feet within seconds – and the feeling of panic passed just as quickly as it arrived. I had the same feeling when Harry disappeared recently at a playbarn.

For what seemed like minutes but was actually probably no more than 30 seconds, I couldn't see him anywhere. Then I spotted him – he'd somehow managed to find a way into the out-of-bounds area behind the play equipment.

It's reassuring to know that Melissa suffers just as badly from 'Harry panic'. At swimming last week, she convinced herself that Harry had swallowed her pound coin from the locker and proceeded to bang his back in an attempt to get him to cough it back up.

Harry, obligingly, started coughing which made her panic even more. I'm not sure how long this went on for, and I can only imagine what the people in surrounding cubicles thought of the commotion. Eventually, Melissa decided that he must have swallowed it and survived and gave up the rescue operation – before finding the coin clasped very tightly in his hand.

Charge!

Harry, like all youngsters, can get a bit carried away when he’s enjoying himself.

The other day, for instance, I arrived home to find him sat at the kitchen table painting. Two minutes later, I was sat next to him, joining in the fun. Everything was going well until I decided to lean over and paint on Harry’s piece of paper. He looked at me, help up his hand and said: “Stop daddy, Harry’s paper.”

I should, with hindsight, have left it at that. I didn’t of course, and leaned over to paint on his paper again. Five minutes later my face was covered in paint as Harry decided to put a stop to my interference once and for all. As Melissa said afterwards, it was my fault for antagonising him.

I also managed to cause trouble when we visited Chirk Castle. We had a great time running around the grounds, and Harry was particularly taken with the soldiers guarding the entrance to the castle with their pikestaffs.

Interest in history, I thought, should be encouraged, so I bought Harry a sword and helmet. I then taught him to shout “charge” and chase me. Unfortunately, Harry decided that charging at strangers with his sword raised would be much more entertaining than chasing dad.

There was one uncomfortable moment when Harry decided to attack two elderly ladies. Fortunately, I managed to grab him – much to his disgust – before any damage was done.

In the end, I convinced Harry that it was better to charge while sitting on my shoulders, which may not have been historically accurate, but was certainly safer for the other visitors. In future, though, I think I’ll concentrate on games that don’t involve swords.