It's odd how things previously of little consequence become paramount, often before having even consciously recognised a shift. I refer, of course, to my latest source of chagrin. My knee.

I feel I may become rather a bore on this issue, having covered it rather thoroughly verbally. On Facebook. By email. Text. Frankly, though, I care little of the predicted monotony. My knee hurts. It's not getting better. It transpires I have anterior knee damage and tendinitis. My physio (my first ever visit) is cautiously confident, however, that assuming I follow his strengthening exercises and don't overdo it I should be almost fit for my second footballing "Firhill Cup" (http://www.kirkwoodscastles.co.uk/firhill-cup-2012.php) on 13th May. He's insisted on heavy strapping, however, and advised that I'll be in quite some pain afterwards. Being a fellow football nut, however, he knows I'll (attempt to) limp through.

I am concerned however. Even now stairs are my mortal enemy, forcing me to edge up sideways, rather akin to a constipated crab. I struggle, even, to play football with my 5 year old son (good video at the bottom of the blog incidentally) which is most galling of all. I can't yet feel any great improvement and am becoming genuinely concerned that following the 13th my footballing days will be over for good. A sobering thought. My upcoming orthotics (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orthotics) appointment is very much a last chance saloon.

Running should be less of an issue however, as the more predictive striding nature of a jog should cause me fewer issues. Incidentally, my wife's interest in such has increased exponentially of late too. Indeed, on the same day I'm playing football at Firhill (or destroying my knee for ever, whatever) Carole will be precisely 158.2 miles away competing in the Dunecht 5K run. A battle for the Deep Heat and the bath will ensue upon our return home that evening.

Carole, indeed, has rather a busy schedule at the moment. She's just begun horse riding/training for an owner out in Meikle Wartle (I swear it's a real place....) and is absolutely loving it. Featured above is Wallace, her most recent assignment. Apparently a daunting beast, but as I've never quite got my head around the units of measurement used for calculating a horses size (hands !?!?) I'm going to fail miserably in the descriptive sense here.

I'm missing something tonight. Luca perchance? It's not often his name doesn't occur until the 6th paragraph, but there you go. This doesn't, of course, have any bearing as to his current whereabouts in our list of priorities. He remains number one.

And doesn't he know it.

His naughtiness factor has increased to the nth degree of late however. In fact we even received reports from school that he'd spent a break time wandering round the school yard punching girls in the stomach. Why? Only the frazzles of electrical activity in that little brain of his could explain this, as verbally he has been less than forthcoming. Due to this I've had to increase the strictness of our rules and increase his punishments. With outright predictability the most effective has been the removal of treats for two days. Punish the stomach and the soul and will quickly jump into line.

Carole continually wonders why Luca pays greater attention to the admonishments by Dad rather than those by Mum. The answer is twofold:-
1. Luca and Carole are so similar they're almost indistinguishable. Their arguments are a sight to behold, as both battle for dominance in a game to be won by no-one except the local double glazing salesman.
2. The voice. Few can replicate the nerve jangling fear caused to little 'uns by the tone of a Dad in baritone. Imagine God in the movie "The Time Bandits" mixed with Brian Blessed in "Flash Gordon" and you're halfway there.

Football is continuing apace too. Luca's latest training session being a particular treat. Amongst the assorted snotty nosed urchins in Chelsea, Real Madrid, AC Milan and Manchester United shirts stood a shaggy ragamuffin, proudly resplendant in his new Lincoln City shirt. Did his new non-league team attire inspire him to greater heights? He didn't get any worse. And that's a distinct forward step in my skewed perception of reality.

**Useless fact of the day - Don't keep tooth-brushes near the toilet. The bacteria in the air might get transferred onto the brush**

New faces and the spectacles to see them with

My fingernail is about to fall off. I trapped it in a magnetised door some weeks ago and despite various treatments it's now black, gnarly and resembles the onset of a zombie plague.

Luca's fingers seem strong nonetheless, and he's pictured above on the roller coaster at Aberdeen Funfair. A typically Scottish fairground scene, wrapped in seventeen coats and assorted head wear, pretending to enjoy the fun parks wares while secretly wishing the tips of your toes would register any sensation, simply to prove they're still there and that frostbite hasn't taken over.

He's getting too big for the little kids rides isn't he?

The waltzers next. I thought it was a great idea to take photo's mid spin. Of course, I also once thought it a good idea to shave my feet. My socks itched at me for months.

Here's Ben and Elle, our recent visitors for a weeks holiday, both resplendently soaked after the log flume ride. 20 and 19 respectively they may be, but both attacked the funfair with more gusto than little 5 year old Luca. Oh to be young.

Another ride. I was, admittedly, losing the will by this juncture.

The opticians. Luca's first ever eye test, most notable not for the fact that Luca was demonstrated to have slightly short sight (-0.5) but for the fact he is remarkably incapable of sitting still longer than a single flap of a bats wing. The optician is to be commended for his patience, particularly during the period where Luca decided to judder his entire body while his eyes were inspected, for no other reason than "it makes me feel funny".

And above with his first pair of glasses. These are a free set, as it was explained to me that at his age carefulness doesn't tend to be paramount while diving across sofa's, bottom bumping down stairs or playing bullfights with their friends. To be honest I don't see them getting a great deal of wear due to the very minor imperfection in his vision, but his next inspection (in 12 months time) will tell much.

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What of his parents? Carole is currently enjoying the purchases of her "Clarice Cliff" crockery. I'm unsure, however, whether it's the designs she most appreciates, or the instantaneous shade of white her husband turns every time she tells him the price paid.

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She's also handed her gym notice in too, in a surprising turn of events. Bannatynes has been a refuge for her since returning following Luca's birth, both for exercise and social reasons. However, such is the current social schedule that managing time is becoming ever more of a challenge. The exercise aspect will be replaced however - she's joining a running club in Inverurie instead. I may have to watch my back on our next charity run.

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However, a conundrum, as one of life's many obstacles has stuck two fingers up at me. It turns out the date of our next race (13th May) coincides with the "Firhill Fun Day", where again I'm due to play 11 a side football on Partick Thistle's (in)famous pitch. What to do?

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For anyone keen to hear of more of Luca's goalscoring exploits, you'll be left temporarily disappointed. The football training is currently on an Easter related hiatus, and even the Dad and Son kick abouts have been rare, primarily due to Inverurie's weather reverting to norm. The God's have obviously decided the 3 days worth of sun we received recently will suffice for several more decades, to be replaced by the joyously driving rain again. Happy days.

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**Useless fact of the day - In Far Eastern countries such as Taiwan, Singapore and Hong Kong, 90 per cent of young people are short-sighted, compared with 15 to 30 per cent in Europe and the US**

Too much too young

2012 has brought about a new annum, with the hope and fresh start every new year brings. However, I haven't yet made use of this new opportunity and my blog updates (obviously my most important responsibility) since January have been remiss - to say the very least. But, as every new day is a new opportunity I shall let the computer continue it's chronological story......




Of course, this assumes I've uploaded today's photo's in chronological order. Which of course I haven't. Yay. At least Luca is as yet blissfully unaware of his Dad's almost disturbing lack of technological prowess. Here he is above in a classic pose, sat atop a small, inelegant and frankly cheap looking sculpture outside a series of closed down shops just off Aberdeen's city centre. A photo for the classic archives doubtless.



This is better. If his lions mane doesn't immediately identify him, Luca is the child in the grey t-shirt and blue shorts during his (first ever) organised run. Doesn't he look quick?



Of course pictures lie. He didn't run very fast. Indeed he finished half way down the field. This picture above is more representative, with Luca eating the dust of a slightly chubby girl who is clearly doing little more than an energetic walk. Much like that weird sport in the Olympics (is it called the walking race?) where slightly built men wiggle their hips in a disturbingly effeminate way across a track, while the observing crowd use all their reserves to to disguise their mirth at such a preposterous spectacle.



Here he is, professionally warming up for the big race. With a yawn.



"I might get beaten by girls today Dad"



I jest of course. He did very well, as up until only 30 minutes before the races start it looked unlikely he would run at all. During the previous evening he and I had visited Duthie Park to experience the singular joy brought forth by the truly enormous slide in residence. After what seemed (to me) to be a time period comparable to that of the Bronze Age ("Just 2 more goes Dad") we departed the park toward the car park. Now it's a downhill walk to the car park. On tarmac footpaths. And Luca was running. Need I go further? He swallow dived several feet across the surface, opening up his hands and knee's quite badly. We sat in my car for nearly an hour attempting to stop the flow of blood from both knee's. So kudos to the little chap for even attempting the race little more than 15 hours later.



No, this isn't Abbey. Due to a rather unscheduled hospital visit from one of Carole's co-workers last week, we ended up babysitting (dogsitting?) young Sasha here for a couple of nights. I need make no mention of the thoughts and inward deliberations of my wife during this period.



On a smaller scale, here's the boy and the object of his eternal love, out on yet another forest walk. Taken during a brief "I need a little sit down" period, Luca is normally continual motion and as such a trifle difficult to catch on camera.



Like here. Like "The Flash" after a L'Oreal advert.



Another picture taken in Aberdeen, he often requests his photograph to be taken at present. It doesn't stop him fidgeting like an army of ants have invaded his undergarments of course.



Again in Aberdeen, in my favourite store - "One-Up", the independent music outlet. Luca spent nearly 20 minutes with the in-store headphones glued to his ears, sampling the latest wares. He was most enthused by a band called "Field Music". Not music you would expect a 5 year old to be attracted by, you can click the link below for a sample of what excited him so:- http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2cKvLO1PFf8

Finally an image taken in Aberdeen train stations cafe. Were we going somewhere? No, we had simply made the mistake of arriving into Scotland's oil capital at lunchtime on a Sunday. A brief interlude at one of the cities quieter establishments was needed, hence our curious choice for our gastronomic requirements.

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Like a slavering dog, this smile is only evident as I waved a piece of chocolate cake around behind the camera. Sadly, I'm not attempting to be humorous.

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On the next blog we'll feature the gifts Luca presented to Carole on Mothers Day. I allowed him free reign to purchase whatever he felt was suitable for his Mummy's present. With predictably catastrophic results.

**

Before you find another more entertaining method of killing 2 minutes and 14 seconds, have a look at the video's posted at the bottom of the page. The first a rare recording of Isis showing there's still a little life in those old joints, and the second of Luca demonstrating his "unique" skills at football training. I swear he's usually much more adept than on this brief clip. And I've no idea why he attempts the bunny hop.

**Useless fact of the day - The longest living dog, according to the Guinness
Book of World Records, was an Australian Cattle Dog, named Bluey, who lived to
be 29**

Oooooohhh, so close

A very brief post as I am innately drunk. A long day out was enjoyed with Luca today, culminating in his regular football training session.

New skills were taught to the younglings today, with much amusement as they proceeded to fall over in various Charlie Chaplin/Harold Lloyd esque poses as their still developing legs seemed unable to twist and bend in the necessary fashions to enable them to pull of the requisite moves. Luca did OK here, but can do so much more. His natural defeatist nature precludes him reaching anywhere near his current potential.

A full scale game was played at the sessions end as per usual and a surprisingly fit Luca (we'd already walked/ran several miles during various activities earlier in the day) showed greater physical dexterity than his peers, covering large swathes of the pitch as his teammates/opponents appeared rather more immobile. A surprisingly unselfish display was present as he constantly looked for teammates to pass to. Encouraging to see, as his peers appear unable to raise their heads sufficiently to spread play similarly.

His moment came in the games final seconds. A loose ball was played through and Luca reacted quickest to outpace the opposition to the spinning ball before knocking it in front of him seamlessly without breaking stride. That uniquely high elbowed sprint was witnessed as the defenders trailed in his wake, unable to keep stride. One more touch was taken as he approached the goal to switch the ball to his favoured left foot before BANG! His shot skimmed the outside of the opponents post. No goal, but so close. He should have hit the target, but no matter. He'd shown speed, willingness and dexterity to allow himself the opportunity. He knew it too as he spun around to catch my gaze and blew his cheeks out. A huge smile swept across his face.

Not only had he performed admirably, more importantly he'd enjoyed the experience greatly. Next up? His first official race. We've entered him an upcoming 600m run involving his comparable age group (5-7 years). With those little legs I suppose it's the equivalent of you or I competing in the 1500m. At that age you tend to run flat out or not at all, so it'll certainly be Interesting to see his coping strategies. I will, of course, record the races final 50m for posterity.

**Useless fact of the day - The first recorded running olympics were back in 776BCE**

Must. Find. Alcohol.

Sssshhhh. Two five year old boys slumber only yards away as Carole and I whisper and tiptoe around our own home, fearful that even the slightest floorboard creak will reignite the cacophony of evil yelps and hollers from their adjoining bedrooms.

Yes, Ethan is here to stay again. As before, his influence on Luca mirrors that of Nancy on Sid as the two ticking time bombs attempt to locate the mutual triggers within themselves. Luca literally shook with hysterical laughter as I attempted to coerce him toward the bathroom at bedtime. Ethan cackled while continuously (and purposely?) farting on me as I attempted to get his jammies on. Simultaneously I witnessed Carole's complexion continue its rapid journey toward exploding radish while the dogs concluded their search for any quiet corner of the house in which to hide from the chaos in.

For those few brief minutes our stone deaf wolf dog and incontinent pup sadly were the most intelligent and considered members of the household.

Quiet and calm has returned however, and I now lie here with a stomach full of cream egg ice cream (comfort food consumption) while Carole attempts her own calming method of soaking in a hot, deep bath.

Kids. Can't live without them. Can't sell them. Screwed either way.

It's been a relatively inconsequential week up until now. Same old, same old as work dominates (though not as prohibitively as before) and collides with the many other tasks and activities we have to balance it off against. As neither of our employers have yet been kind enough to offer us part time hours for the equivalent salary that currently finds residence in our accounts (though hope does spring eternal) this situation will remain constant.

Which brings us neatly to this weeks question. Is it reasonable to consider employing a cleaner, or is it an extravagance unbecoming of a working couple with responsibilities in the middle of a global recession? Please vote on the poll to the right.

I've written very little of Luca thus far, and with the time having now crept into the early hours of Monday morning I'm going to have to cut this short. Suffice to say he's continued his spelling obsession (very pleasing) but balanced it with a newfound awkwardness. He's clearly currently testing his boundaries which makes for an "interesting" time. His Mum is taking the brunt of it just now as he's been much more reticent to test his Dad (a fear thing I suspect following my "Stern Dad" act during Carole's recent trip South). Make sure you pass on your support for what may likely be a trial of OJ Simpson esque proportions over the coming few weeks.

Sometimes it's rather easy to understand why so many people buy cats rather than "create" children. Though I'd still rather play swingball with my own optics rather than own one of those evil beasts.

Obviously I'm discounting Liz and Toms cat who is just lovely. And Kellys old cat too. Lovely creatures, not at all the spawn of the devil.

And football? No more goals of late, though the change in the scale of games played at Luca's training lately has been a major cause. The games have adapted from their early small numbers and pitches to full hall games involving all competitors. All the boys have struggled and none seem capable of shining amid the stramash. Indeed the most recent yesterday ended 0-0. Luca has become quite disconsolate due to his lack of scoring opportunities, but he's at least not alone. The most talented kid there came off the pitch yesterday in tears of frustration. It's time for a chat with the coaches.

Enjoy the various videos below, a couple of which were taken yesterday after Luca's football training. I drove him down to the 5 a side pitches where I myself play and let him dribble and shoot unencumbered by the expectations of coaches and the attentions of competing children. Sometimes the fun aspect is too easily forgotten.

Oh, the picture of the bird? Taken in our local supermarket. We avoided the surrounding shelves littered with its droppings. Yum.

**Useless fact of the day - The only way to stop corn visibly appearing in your poop is to not eat corn**

The Young And The Restless

It is over. After 4 days and 9 hours (I wasn't counting.....) Carole returned home from Lincoln this evening. With this my tenure as sole curator of the highly combustible object that is Luca Stewart ended. And a weight greater than that atop Atlas' shoulders was removed.

With exaggeration as my byword, I may perhaps not be entirely serious. Indeed, despite the (many....) trials I rather enjoyed the time spent with him. I'd arranged to work half days last week with the intent to drop off and collect Luca from school and also allow me sufficient time to complete the necessary everyday household tasks. It transpires that work/life balance can be a tricky mistress.

Despite the trials we did manage. Interestingly Luca's behaviour varied somewhat from type however. In contrast to his norm he woke early every day, much to my chagrin - sleep became a rather precious commodity. "Is it morning time?" he queried every morning from the edge of my bed, before the birds outside had started tweeting, and even prior to the sun having begun its ascent over the mountain tops.

I always surrendered not long after however, "encouraged" out of bed by the presence of a 5 year old boy and Jack Russell dog having sneaked into Carole's side of the bed offering "quiet" reminders that breakfast would be quite appreciated.

Curiously few things better the school run in my eyes though. Collecting him from school was always highly rewarding, seeing him emerge from the doors of the school, his eyes darting round the playground in search of his Dad. The smile and sprint toward me once he'd located my whereabouts was just terrific. Sat in an office dealing with difficult situations or seeing that grin - the contrast was just enormous.

Picking him up at 3.30pm daily allowed great scope for activities. We went to the cinema, swimming, played football - anything that wore down that internal Duracell battery. We even cooked together, as I conducted culinary experiments in an attempt to widen his palette. The various grimaces across his face demonstrated his stubbornness, though to his credit he tried everything I cooked. Most interestingly was his lack of gastric knowledge. The gradual realisation that mince isn't actually made out of Earthworms being a particular highlight.

The lack of adult company was more of a trial than I imagined however, and I felt more than a little restless once he'd gone to sleep. His Uncle Ross did offer some respite on Friday evening however, albeit at a cost. Before his descent to the land of nod his Uncle introduced him to a video game called "Soul Caliber" (if I rightly recall its title) which was a 1 versus 1 fighting game. I think you can probably guess how tricky is was to settle a five year old down to sleep following such a visceral experience. An experience perhaps not to be repeated!

The weekend brought forth far greater time flexibility, which allowed us greater scope as well as a more relaxed pace. I'll try to detail below the following photo's:-

Taken today during our forest walk (Kirkhill Forest), here the short man rests on a stump, his legs having failed him after several miles of stumbling through the mud. Loving the experience, he was like a pig in sh*t. Life as a forest ranger could be a distinct possibility.

"This way, keep up old man"

Short of adding a knife holster to his leg, he couldn't look more "badass woodsman" here. Sort of.

The above taken on Saturday as we climbed Luca's favourite hill. He didn't tire. He never did. My legs feel like someone has injected concrete into them. Obviously, as you do.

Both pictures above were taken on Saturday, from Aberdeen beach. The only beach in the world where the polar bears insist on a nice chunky cardigan.

OK, we're veering badly from the standard chronology now. The above image was taken a week ago, as Luca endured a visit to Pittodrie with a hungover Dad to watch a distinctly underwhelming encounter between Aberdeen and St Johnstone. With 0-0 the final score, at least he defeated the featured enormous hot dog. Just look at the determination as he sternly eyes the weirdly textured meat product.

Way off kilter now, the picture above was taken as we (Dad, Ross et al) arrived early for the Partick Thistle V Dundee extravaganza at Firhill several weeks back. Another 0-0 draw, I clearly jinx any prospective entertainment for others when attending live fixtures.

Both the above taken on the same day several weeks ago. When exactly? I can't recall. Where exactly? Ditto. Why am I posting such unrepresentative images? Beats me.

A proper archive picture I stumbled across. Sometimes the desire to stop time and live in the day is overwhelming.

Christmas. A 5 year old (scratch that, he was still 4) contemplates the true religious meaning of Christmas and quietly contemplates those less fortunate than himself. Naturally.

**Useless fact of the day - The interior of the Sun is so vast it could hold over 1,300,000 Earths**

Never, ever again

Life is essentially ruled by a never ending series of foolhardy decisions. Boris Johnsons parents not using protection. The record company A&R man who signed Miley Cyrus. Suffragettes losing their lives, their freedom, for a future society unappreciative and barely aware of what they sacrificed and why.

But none more foolhardy than our decision to allow two of Luca's friends to sleep over last Saturday night.

In retrospect it seemed a feasible idea. Luca had never had friends over before, and as an only child we've always been very conscious of the need to keep him active and stimulated to ensure he never becomes lonely. Games, toys, activities, sport, reading, running, walking, play parks, zoos, cinemas, etc, etc are all hugely important aspects of his life, yet socialising with his peers outside of school/nursery has rarely played a part and consequently has always caused a little consternation.

Consternation shmonsternation. It was hell. His friends, Tyler and Ethan (Ethan is the unfamiliar sleeping figure above) are nice kids, but three 5 year olds surrounded by toys and computer games, fuelled by copious volumes of chocolate, juice and the exuberance of youth is a deadly combination. Naively we expected the trials to end at bedtime. They didn't. It transpires other children don't settle down to sleep as quickly as Luca. Who knew?

A late night and a fitful sleep later, we took mini Hitler, mini Satan and mini Pol Pot to the cinema for a morning screening of "The Muppets". Yes, they've made another Muppets film almost a generation after the last. I enjoyed it, as it was very obviously scripted with the intention of wooing the 30-something's for whom The Muppets were an integral part of their childhood. However, it wasn't quite child-centric enough for the boys who wriggled, giggled and fiddled throughout. Luca's review afterward was the most succinct - "I wanted to see Star Wars".

This week has brought a little respite from the short chap, as he spent a few days staying with Granny and Granda during the school holidays. As grateful as we were for the assist it was terrific to get him home on Wednesday. I picked him up from Banchory after work and ran him home, making a detour into the Chinese takeaway on route. As I turned my back to pay he disappeared through the back of the takeaway to the upstairs restaurant, the only evidence of his presence being the thunder of his hooves as he hurtled round the tables. He suddenly appeared again, leaping down a flight of stairs in a single bound before casually announcing "How cool am I?"

Very

**Useless fact of the day - Tigers not only have striped fur, they also have striped skin**