I am the mother of a 16 year old. There, I said it. I know, I feel really old.
Of course with 16 year olds, you get the hormones… the moodiness… the constant demands for money… the vast tranches of time when they’re lolling about making the place look untidy, or just unconscious…
But you also get moments like this:
He’s not complained too much about being away from COD Black Ops for a whole two weeks… it helped that he spent the whole of Sunday getting sweaty at paintball with his mate Steve – they came back filthy, bruised and knackered. But still smiling.
He’s hugely different from his brother, but their differences make them who they are, and we love them both. We’re so proud. Happy birthday, Sam xx