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The simple answer isn't simple. Why do the things you do as a father? Because you're genetically programmed to? Because there is a societal pressure to conform? Because you should?

So tonight - and it isn't the first night, Will falls asleep downstairs. Sometimes it's in his bouncy chair. Sometimes it's in his bascinet. Sometimes on his playmat. The important thing to remember is he's in the wrong place and the sleep consultants tell you that baby must go to sleep in the right place. So you're screwed.

So - tonight. Will has struggled with the hot weather. He has literally never encountered weather this warm in his 3 month life before. This is all new to him and he only has one way to indicate his discomfort. So he cries then screams then sleeps, and at this point there is much (very quiet) rejoicing.

But he is asleep.

So tonight, I have to transfer Will from the place he has chosen to sleep to the place we want him to sleep. Up 2.5 flights of stairs and 7 corners.

There is a certain amount of trepidation when you go to lift a 3 month old sleeping baby. Get it wrong and he may never sleep again ever. Get it really wrong and he will turn into a hungry ghost that will keep your family awake for the next 5 generations. So with my heart in my mouth I bend down to lift and carry.

And here is where the miracle happens. Here is where it becomes all worthwhile.

Because I pick up Will and pull him to my shoulder so he won't feel unsupported. And he swings his arms wide and as he makes contact with my chest his arms wrap around my neck.

And at this point, my heart explodes.

I know, rationally, it's just a reflex. It's a perceived fall with the arms out to grab hold.

In my head, it's rational and explained.

But in my heart ...

Oh Captain, my Captain.

My son grabs hold of my neck, trusting that I won't let him fall.

And I swear my life and my honour that, while it is in my power, he will not fall.
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