Despite being together three years, Dave and I (and Jackson, obvs) don’t live together yet.
Oh, how I fondly remember the days when you could meet someone, have a drink with them and then three weeks later pick up your backpack and move in together. Only to leave again three weeks after that, same small backpack in hand, heart broken in chest.
Somehow things get more complicated as you get older – suddenly you have dogs and cats and kids and houses to rent and schools to find and routes to plan.
This complication is something Dave and I have managed to skillfully avoid for many years, and, in truth, I think we’d both like to continue avoiding it for a while longer. But that’s not to be, because if we are ever going to actually get married, then co-habiting is kinda inevitable.
In the meantime, Dave lives about 30 minutes drive from our little house in Blairgowire. It’s a journey Jackson and I make often and I enjoy it thoroughly because it gives us a chance to have random conversations that are so often missed in the rush to get to school, get home, clean teeth, go to Kung Fu, eat supper, do homework, read stories, have a bath, play Wii and so on and so on (and on and on and on and on).
Conversations like this one:
Jackson: Mommy, did you know that Masterchef is a REAL THING, not just a programme on the TV.
Me: What do you mean?
Jackson: Well people REALLY cook and they are REALLY on Masterchef.
Me: Well, yes. It’s a competition and they are competing to see who the best cook is and then that person is the winner, the MASTER of the chefs as it were.
Jackson: Oh. *siiiiiiigh*….I wish I was on Masterchef.
Me: Really, what would you cook?
Me: Um…spaghetti bolognaise.
Me: Chicken and brocoli pasta
Jackson: No. I’ll give you a clue Mommy. It starts with Fireman Fred. I’d cook F…F…fi…fiiii…
Me: Fish fingers.
Jackson: YES MOMMY THAT’S RIGHT. Fish fingers and chips and pink sauce.
Me: Fish fingers are a great meal.
Jackson: I’d totally be the Master of the chefs with fish fingers.
And here is my precious little Masterchef rolling and making his own pizza on Sunday night…