When You Have A Fearless Child

25/04/2017 15:31 BST | Updated 25/04/2017 15:31 BST

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It's (ironically) safe to say that my youngest son, Alexander, is pretty fearless most of the time.

I have two sons. Oliver is my eldest at 7, Xander is 4 and they're complete opposites. Oliver was born old and wise. Mature beyond his years, he's a textbook big brother. Caring, sensible and cautious. He'll make a great doctor or teacher one day if he chooses that path. He warns me to look out when walking by the river near our home so I don't fall in, whilst Xander is the kid you'd worry would fall in as he'd be skipping by the banks.

Oliver was born old and wise, mature beyond his years (like me as a child, my Mum likes to tell me): a textbook big brother. Caring, sensible and rather cautious. He'll make a great doctor or teacher one day if he chooses those paths. He's quite strict and proper, exercising right from wrong, a real leader but he's empathetic with it. He warns me to look out when walking by the river near our home so I don't fall in, whilst Xander is the kid you'd worry would fall in as he'd be skipping by the banks.

He warns me to watch out when walking by the river near our home in case I might fall in, whilst Xander heads straight for the road.

Take today, at Bolton Abbey when he bounded towards the highest point, the crashing river beneath, causing me to have heart failure as I swooped him up and moved him back to safer grounds. I literally cannot take my eyes off him for a minute.

The child is wild at heart that's for sure, and in many ways, that's quite a beautiful thing. No obstacle seems unbreakable or unbeatable in his eyes, which inspires me, yet equally, I've aged 20 years since the day he was born.

He inhaled a tiny piece of a toy whilst we were on holiday in the South of France last year, heading to Cannes hospital in an ambulance with his father, leaving myself and my eldest crying our hearts out until he returned laughing with a McDonald's in hand, proud that he stood still as the doctor tweezed it out. He talks about it non-stop as a badge of honour, if you will.

It often feels like bold and brave Xander is just one minute away from an accident. Thank goodness for the First Aid Course I took last year.

I don't know if you can change a child's personality. I advise, inform, counsel and keep my eyes on him at all times, and whilst it's flipping draining, I know with him, it's necessary.

Life is getting a little easier as he's becoming older at least. He's learning to listen more and surprised my husband and I, recently reminding us he can't eat yoghurt and cheese after a cow's milk intolerance was discovered.

His zest for life, contagious laughter and sharp mind amazes most people. He's such a character, who loves the camera and performing, and I don't want to stifle him in my bid to keep him safe, but that's my priority as it is with my eldest. It's a delicate balance of making him feel free whilst standing a safe distance from him to catch him when in this case, he inevitably falls.

He's such a loveable, sweet little boy who loves brushing my hair, inventing stories with me at bedtime and pretending to read (he becomes frustrated if you try and read to him). He's finding his independence day by day and will be starting school in September (weep) so I'm learning too, slowly, to let go a little more and not worry as much about him, even if he's usually the first kid to fall and hurt himself or get a tiny toy stuck up his nose!

If you have any tips to help me or can relate, then let me know.

Gosh kids, don't half make you worry, hey!

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