A first length of the pool, a summer filled with new skills, and a few precious weeks together before big school begins.

Last week, I wrote to you from the terrace by the pool, about how your confidence tanks were filling up again.

I ended the letter wondering whether Greece might be the holiday where you finally cracked swimming. It turns out, I only had to wait a few more days. By Friday, you swam your first full length of the pool.

It started with a width. Then some diving practice. Then another swim. Before long, you were standing at one end of the pool, counting us all down as you launched in for a full length. 

Just another reminder that these moments reveal themselves when the timing is right for you. There was no pressure or expectation added. Just time spent in the pool, with gentle support surrounding you. 

I can’t claim to have had much input in your swimming, at least, not on this holiday. We’ve spent hours in the pool here at home, strangely enough I’m writing this letter to you from the balcony of the swimming pool at the Harbour Club in Chelsea, where it all began for you. 

But this one belonged to the family.

Grandma focused on your diving. Your cousins built your confidence simply by spending hour after hour playing with you in the water. And Grandad, he was the net. He would stand a few metres away with his arms stretched out, ready to reel you in whenever you needed catching. They each gave you something different. Encouragement, inspiration, safety and, perhaps most importantly, time.

Eventually, all those small contributions came together. And you swam.

It reminded me that many people, not only Mum and me, will shape your life. Your grandparents, cousins, uncles, aunts, teachers, and friends will all introduce you to things we cannot.

Perhaps part of being your dad is knowing when to step forward and help, and when to stand back and let the other people who love you do the same.

Now we’re home, and another countdown has begun. We have a few weeks together before you start big school. No nursery to break up our days. No clubs.

Although, actually, that’s a lie. You have tennis camp next week.

Apart from that, your diary is unusually empty, for now. Let’s see if we can squeeze in some fun. We’ll ride our bikes and explore London while the city is quieter, with so many people away on their summer holidays. This weekend, we’re packing the tent and loading the bikes before heading to the biggest mountain-bike championships in the country, the Malverns Classic. We know very little about competitive mountain biking. But we do love bikes. That feels like a good enough reason to go. Plus, we will be there with our pals at Roarsome. 

When I look back on this summer, I already know it will make me smile. It has been filled with adventures and new skills being unlocked almost weekly. In fact, while we were in the shower on Sunday, we started listing them.

This summer, you learned to swim.

You learned to use shampoo without getting it in your eyes and to stand beneath the big shower instead of relying on the small handheld one.

You learned to surf and skateboard.

You moved up a size in your bike, and in your shoes.

Your vocabulary has grown. We can now have proper conversations; you ask the most interesting questions and make some impressive observations. Which, by the way, you absolutely get from me. I notice things, details that get missed. Growing up, your Grandad was convinced I should have joined the police, based on my observational skills. For a moment, I thought I might.

What has struck me most this summer is how quickly the things that once felt enormous have become part of your everyday life.

Growing up doesn’t always announce itself. Sometimes it happens quietly, in swimming pools and showers, on skate ramps and surfboards, or halfway through a conversation when Mum and I suddenly realise how much you understand. Some of the questions you asked about football, whilst watching the World Cup, were seriously good questions that required me to really think and break it down for you (us). 

Big school is waiting for you at the end of these next few weeks. I’m sure it will unlock parts of you we haven’t met yet. Which I’m battling with, if I’m honest. I can’t keep you as my little mate forever, but I am going to try.

But for now, we have our bikes, our rooftent and a quieter-than-usual London waiting to be explored. For a few more weeks, it’s you and me.

And I plan to enjoy every minute of it.

Love you always,

P.S I am closing in on the final details of my next live event to celebrate the 15,000+ readers of this community. More details to follow. But I am very excited about this one. I thought I’d struggle to follow on from hosting a Father's Day event at Twickenham, the home of English rugby. But this one, I don't think, will fall short.