I may be La's 'most of the time carer' but for a father with a full-on job and a few other, err, interests which take him away from home, I have to admit that when he's here, La's Dad is her favourite carer because of the attention he gives her.
I found this photo today, taken about 20 years ago. I'm just days away from giving birth to Becky, La is wearing a jumpsuit I made her with bells attached to the belt and Dad's Dad is all dressed up behind us. I think it must have been a New Year party at his parent's house. La looks as if she's amused by the balloon I'm bouncing about in front of her and La's Dad seems to be looking on pensively, no doubt contemplating the future, near and distant.
It has to be said that La and her Dad share a lot in common, including a devotion to 'fat boy' food, Stravinsky, dodgy 1970s bands (Rush, anyone?) and general loudness. If things were different, I bet she'd be playing a very loud instrument very proficiently by now, going off to football with her Dad on a Saturday and her bedroom would be just as messy.
Whenever I return, having left La in her Dad's care, the house is trashed but there's a special, quiet, happy vibe about the place, plus evidence of a lot of fun and some hearty cooking and eating.
It goes without saying that relationships where there's a disabled child are some of the most fragile so we must be doing ok to be still together so long after this pic was taken.
Sometimes, I have to admit to envy of the way La's Dad interacts with her so utterly uninhibitedly. He never, ever fails to tell her how beautiful and clever she is, if she is at a particular moment and as he did this very morning. And she is, as is the incredible bond between them.
La is lucky and she knows it. So I must be too.
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