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The Diary of a Not So Ordinary Boy

I took Sam to a birthday party last weekend.  It was lovely and astonishing in many ways, not least because, for the first time ever, he happily agreed to have his nails cut.  Now, don’t get me wrong, short nails weren’t a pre-requisite of party attendance, but it was an activity party, they were verging on talons, the length normally seen attached to ladies what occupy themselves going to nail bars, and I have a squeamish dislike of the thought of bits of my children getting stuck in things and being ripped away, if you know what I mean.  And Sam, well, he has an extreme aversion to chopping bits of himself off in any form and, up until now, for any reason.

I think it’s partly my fault.  When A was a baby and I realised that when he touched him he left nail marks I took immediate…

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