T is a year old tomorrow. I have just finished putting together his trike (present from both of us), and wrapping his mini Bristol kit (the first stage of indoctrination from me).
At exactly this time last year, I was sat, a month earlier than anticipated, in Lewisham Hospital, reading out chunks of Peter Ackroyd's biography of Chaucer to my wife as we waited. Eight hours later I became a dad.
Has this year changed me? Certainly, but I'm too close to it to know how. It's been a great year, though.
I hope he likes his trike.