In 'Time Flies' news, the boy turned
seven yesterday. He was a bit disgruntled that he had to go to school but I told him about how having a birthday in the summer holidays is massively overrated; I never had four separate classes at school sing Happy
Birthday to
me and have suffered with depression on-and-off ever since. Okay, those things might not be directly linked but we'll never know. It can't be a coincidence.
Where has the time gone? It seems like only yesterday he didn't want to make Dope Dope Yo hands in photoshoots*.
With seven years on this planet successfully completed, you're allowed to be a bit casual about birthdays.
(Pictured above: casual attitude).
Can you tell who has started karate this year? If you need a clue I can post another hundred pictures of him punching and kicking towards the camera. And looking tough.
Ladies and Gentleman (ie my dad), please prepare yourself for the grand denouement of this post, where I demonstrate with irrefutable proof how time does indeed fly:
I present you with three year old Jamie versus seven year old Jamie. At least 75% percent less moon head but otherwise identical.
*Actually, this is the first occurence of Dope Dope Yo hands so it could have been yesterday.
