Proud dad

So the firstborn son has finally got his degree results - and it's first class honours with distinction. After a brief glow of parental pride, I've started planning to swap names by deedpoll and become my son's son, while he can be his dad's dad. 

My memories of parenting are sporadic: riding on my shoulders sneaking slurps of my Guiness, aged two. Tumbletots, with bruises. Fast forward to prize days, where the role reversal began: warning his dad to behave properly. The discovery of his beautiful jazz piano playing, echoing in the house. Somehow, despite the confusion of life he has grown up well and it is his doing. He managed to use the family kindly and the education service well, knowing the balance of his rights and responsibilities to achieve - something many of us still find a real conundrum, when both are naturally flawed institutions.