Introducing Sam Tyler
Sam Tyler is 2 weeks old. Unlike a Gallifreyan child, all Sam can do is cry, eat, sleep and poop. He is barely a life at all, merely a wisp of something that could be. Yet as I observe his tiny little face, and tiny little hands, each home to five tiny little fingers, I cannot help but feel slightly overwhelmed by the size of it all.
Of all the possible combinations of DNA breakdown, and of all the possible sperm out of the billions produced that day, it was this one, that unique individual that reached Rose's egg. Had another been on form that glorious morning, I might now be staring down at Brent, or Clint, or even a Clare. And this is what amazes me so, is that out of the infinite possibilities, here is my son. Every aspect of him already exists, etched into his chromosomes which will define the man that he will one day become. And though I can not see his future, I can not know the man that he already is somewhere inside, I feel safe in the realisation that I have all the time in the world to find out.
He may grow up to be gay, or straight, or maybe a little of both. Perhaps he'll be a mummy's boy, or a chip off the old block. He could be a singer, a writer, a scholar, an artist, an athlete, a leading scientist in the field of astrophysics. Only one thing is certain; Sam Tyler is my son, and I love him.
Of all the possible combinations of DNA breakdown, and of all the possible sperm out of the billions produced that day, it was this one, that unique individual that reached Rose's egg. Had another been on form that glorious morning, I might now be staring down at Brent, or Clint, or even a Clare. And this is what amazes me so, is that out of the infinite possibilities, here is my son. Every aspect of him already exists, etched into his chromosomes which will define the man that he will one day become. And though I can not see his future, I can not know the man that he already is somewhere inside, I feel safe in the realisation that I have all the time in the world to find out.
He may grow up to be gay, or straight, or maybe a little of both. Perhaps he'll be a mummy's boy, or a chip off the old block. He could be a singer, a writer, a scholar, an artist, an athlete, a leading scientist in the field of astrophysics. Only one thing is certain; Sam Tyler is my son, and I love him.