Balls are for kicking

Hi Robin

What a glorious spring day we are having here in Brussels. I hope the sun is also shining and Hoofddorp in Holland and that you can play outside. So funny to see you walk. I hope you don't mind me saying so, but when you walk, you look just like a little penguin.

By the way, Robin, there is something you need to know - and your Dad supports me in this: You are a BOY. Get it? A boy! That is the opposite of a girl. Girls, I will talk to you about some other time. But let's for the time being stick to the theme of 'being a boy'.

Among many other implications, that means - even if you are only a mere 15 months old and have just atarted to walk - that if a BALL (you know, those colourful round things) is rolled in front of your feet (like your Dad is doing all the time), you are supposed to KICK the damn thing, not stand there like a pillar of salt and look at it as if it was something that the cat dragged in...

Your Dad is already a trifle disappointed that you have so far not yet been scouted by Ajax, but your apparent disinterest in kicking a ball is seriously depressing him, and we can't have that, now can we?

So, my dear Robin, here is the Official Memo: BALL = KICK!

Get it right from now on, and you will have your Dad eating out of your chubby little hand.

Hugs from Opa Verweg (Granddad Faraway)