‘Never thank me, sweet boy,’ I say quietly, wondering if Harry’s little thing is now becoming my obsession. I often find myself checking out people’s ankles on my son’s behalf, even when he’s not with me. The world needs ridding of odd socks.
‘Where’s my boy?’ Josephine’s happy voice creeps down the hallway as I let us in, and I immediately take a glimpse at Harry, seeing him removing his Converse and placing them neatly by the coat stand.
‘I’m here, Great-Nana!’ he replies, laying his rucksack beside his shoes.
Josephine appears, wiping her hands on a tea towel, her lovely face a joy to see. ‘Good evening, Josephine,’ I greet, slipping out of my jacket and hanging it on the peg, smoothing it down neatly before returning my attention to Olivia’s wonderful grandmother. She grabs my cheeks and assaults me with her lips while Harry waits alongside for his turn.
‘How many today?’ she asks.
‘Five.’
‘Five.’ She gasps, and I nod my confirmation, making her mutter something about it being a disgrace. She’s right. ‘I do love it when you’re here.’ She finishes up, leaving me with a damp face, and turns her old navy eyes onto Harry. He always has a smile for his great-nana. ‘And how’s my gorgeous boy?’
‘Fine and dandy, thank you.’ He steps into her open arms and cuddles her fiercely. ‘You look exceptionally lovely today, Nana.’
‘Oh, you dreamboat.’ She laughs, taking Harry’s cheeks and squeezing. ‘You beautiful, beautiful boy.’
Harry maintains his smile as Josephine takes his hand and starts leading him to the kitchen. ‘I’ve made your favourite cake,’ she tells him.
‘Pineapple upside-down?’ Harry’s beside himself, and it’s quite apparent in his hopeful tone.
‘Yes, darling, but it’s Uncle George’s favourite, too, so you’ll have to share.’
I follow behind, smiling like crazy on the inside as she shows Harry to a chair. ‘Hello, George,’ Harry says, plunging his finger into the side of the cake. I’m not the only one who winces. George looks horrified.
The old boy places his paper down and looks at Josephine, who shrugs it off. She’ll let him get away with murder. So I step in. ‘Harry, that’s rude,’ I scold, but find it difficult when his tongue is lapping at his cute little fingers.
‘Sorry, Daddy.’ He drops his head in shame.
‘I’ve been looking at this cake for twenty minutes.’ George takes the serving knife and sets about dishing up a slice for each of them. ‘Nana Josephine tells me off, too, if I finger-dip.’
‘But it’s so yummy! Would you like some, Daddy?’ Harry asks me, accepting the plate that’s slid across the table. He then lays his napkin across his lap, and his gorgeous blue eyes find mine. He smiles.
I take a seat next to him, gently ruffling his hair. ‘I’d love some.’
‘Daddy would like some please, George.’
‘You’ve got it, little man.’
I watch as George serves me a slice of Josephine’s famous pineapple upside-down cake and accept my plate, resting it in front of me. I tweak its position, just a little, despite my determination not to. It’s habit. I can’t help it. Looking up to my sweet boy, I find him smiling brightly at me as I lay my napkin across my lap, too.
He’s perfect.
My boy is advanced in every aspect of his young life. He’s smart, and he has no OCD traits beyond his sock compulsion, but everyone is allowed a thing. Harry’s is matching socks. I couldn’t be anything but proud of him. I’m so fucking proud of him. I throw him a little wink and burst with happiness when he giggles and attempts to wink back, blinking both eyes instead of one. OK, maybe not advanced in everything.
‘So, my handsome young man.’ Josephine settles next to Harry and pushes his spoon towards him in a gesture to tuck in, but she immediately slaps her own wrist when he scowls and puts it back in its rightful place.
‘Nana Josie!’ he tsks. ‘Daddy doesn’t like it there!’
‘I’m sorry!’ Josephine casts guilty eyes over to me, and I shrug, thinking she should know better by now. ‘I was doing so well.’
‘It’s fine, mate.’ I placate Harry, trying to calm him. ‘Daddy’s good with the fork there.’
‘You sure?’
‘One hundred per cent.’ I knock the fork off position, making him chuckle. The sweet sound goes some way to curbing my need to put it right back. But I don’t. He mustn’t see how crippled by obsession I once was. I’m getting better, though. And Harry helps immensely. I probably have the messiest kid on Earth. God’s clearly trying to get a balance.