Football and dancing

I’m always very proud when people say Harry looks like me. I’m not sure why exactly, but whenever anybody comments on the resemblance (even if it is Harry’s hairline) I find myself smiling away as if somebody has just paid me a compliment.

However, I’m realistic enough to know that Harry being a carbon copy of me wouldn’t be a good thing, particularly when it comes to dancing. Thankfully, Harry seems to have inherited his mum’s sense of rhythm.

Whenever he hears music, Harry immediately starts bobbing up and down, hopping from one leg to the other, spinning around and waving his arms wildly. He also likes to grab people to dance with him and gets particularly excited when he hears the theme tunes to his favourite television programmes, Chuggington and Thomas and Friends.

It also turns out he’s a bit of a fan of sixties music. When he goes to my mum’s for the day, he makes a beeline for the hi-fi. Bend it, by Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick and Titch seems to be his favourite. Even my nan gets up to dance with him at the grand old age of 94. It’s a remarkable sight.

But Harry’s dancing is not without its problems. Melissa and I took him to a charity tea dance last weekend and he was so keen to join in, he kept running in between couples who were taking the dancing very seriously. They didn’t really see the funny side, unlike Harry who had the time of his life tearing around the dancefloor while I ran round after him trying in vain to keep him out of trouble.

Dancing apart, he’s also developing some pretty impressive football skills. I’ve no idea where he gets these from (it’s certainly not from me ­– I didn’t even make the primary school team), but he loves running around with a ball at his feet before kicking it as hard as he can at somebody or something. It’s impressive stuff from an 18-month-old.

My aim now is to teach him the basics of cricket. It could be dangerous.