Expat boy is growing up

Finally I am in London visiting Expat boy who has begun his internship in the city last month. He is missing his pals and his family and working long hours. Even though I do feel sorry for him and it breaks my heart to see him struggling, it is a lesson he needs to learn.

He needs to make his own bed, iron his shirts, make dinner after a long day's work. He does not have his family at an arm's length to support him and no International school network to welcome him with open arms.

The first few weeks were tough but slowly he is finding his feet. He has hung an Argentinean flag on the wall - he is born a Porteño after all - and transported his playstation from Paris to London to distract himself during his free hours and stocked up on Italian beer, cereals and chips.

Honestly, it took me by surprise to see my big boy not his usual radiant, confident self. I figured having spent the last seven years living in Paris the move to London would be a piece of cake... the same rhythm, same noises, same underground, same hectic urban lifestyle... but I had not calculated that he might miss his backbone: his family.

I left him to it the first month not wanting to be the helicopter mum. We connected via WhatsApp, FaceTime and Skype but now the time has come to give him a huge big hug and take him out for a good meal...

... and hey, when your boy who all his life craves nothing but pasta and pizza chooses to eat sushi for dinner you know he will be just fine!