When they were around six, I took my boys to separate mummy/son trips to Stockholm. First Sam and then three years later Sam again (Fabian got sick). Finally Fabian and I could get away. These trips were close to magical and in due time, I wanted to do it again.

Last year, I offered our boys a trip each for a weekend. Fabian was fast and booked London. Sam wasn’t too keen on a big city trip other than Moscow (which I wasn’t), so for a while we (I) were thinking of hiking in Scotland. But we ended up in Ireland. For four days we were walking (me limping), arguing, laughing and enjoying each other’s company (well, at least I did). One day was spent in my old college town Athlone, where I got to visit a friend from days of yore. We saw each other last in 2000. Amazingly enough he hadn’t changed a bit.

For me the trip was an eye opener of how old I am.

Sam is just faster.

He’s faster:

• In walking (well I’m 172.5 cm he’s 185, in addition to my defense is my injured knee, another sign of old age)
• In noticing stuff, from green lights for pedestrians to vehicles
• In understanding how things work and where to go

We had about 500 arguments of me not hearing, not talking loud enough and talking too loud. But we also had laughters, played games and just hanging out together.

I guess Sam could think of 1000 other more fun things to do this weekend. But I’m sure that in the long run he too will value this trip. I at least did my best to squeeze out the last drop of baby boy of my first born. And I enjoyed every single second of it. Because it is you and me my son. To end of time.