I wrote a while ago about Catherine’s first ballet lesson. I’m pleased to report she is still enjoying her Saturday mornings immensely, learning to skip, curtsey, play possum, and maybe do some dancing as well.
But she’s not the only one who enjoys these weekly outings. Hallam and I have begun our own little routine, too. The three of us drive to the ballet studio, drop Catherine off for her lesson, and then he and I go to Panera Bread and spend some quality father-son time together. Yesterday he had a pain au chocolat and a hot chocolate and spent an hour with his nose immersed in Book 4 of Harry Potter (he’s reading the series for the second time) while I drank coffee and read Max Blumenthal’s sobering account of what’s happened to the GOP, Republican Gomorrah, which I highly recommend, if you have a strong stomach for eye-watering hypocrisy.
Anyway, it’s difficult to describe how much satisfaction we both get from our hour together, just quietly reading. I realize it’s not quite the same as coaching soccer, which is what I used to with him do on Saturday mornings. That was fun, but there were ten other kids I had to deal with as well. Now it’s just the two of us. Our lives are all so hectic all of the time that it’s utterly blissful just to chill out for a while. Sometimes we discuss Hallam’s plans for his next book. Sometimes we discuss my plans for mine. It’s all very cool.
Ah – now my DH would be dead jealous, if only he drank coffee.
He gets to do the Rugby on a Sunday morning, which entails standing in the middle of a windy, and invariably wet, field for two hours – no skivving off to the clubhouse for a bit of a warm allowed.