Bonding...

Saturday evening was quality time with my stepson. We’re pretty close as I’ve been in his life for eight years now so he’s grown to quite like me even though our first meeting was a little bizarre when he wandered into his mother’s bedroom and said ‘Mummy. Who’s that strange man in your bed?’

But the ‘strange man’ gradually morphed into a regular part of his life, then moved in and on Saturday probably reached the high point of step-fatherdom with the handing-over-of-my-comics-collection ceremony. I’ve been a major comics fan for years and, although the boy has always liked comics, it’s only in the past few years that he’s really got into them in a big way under the auspices of my good self and his uncle. And it’s brilliant.

He may go to the footy with his dad and he and his mum may have CSI time together, but once a month me and the now not-so-little fella head into town to raid the comic shops. This, of course is quite expensive for my good self but such is the price of encouraging an interest.

It’s really cool watching him get his own take on things and deciding what he likes and doesn’t like. And this very much became apparent when I rescued my several thousand issue comics collection from its place of safe harbour on Saturday night.

We went through eight boxes and decided what I wanted to keep and what he wanted and what neither of us wanted and deserved a place in the bin. In the end I’ve kept most of my favourite titles and my Comics Bought For Investment Box remains pretty much untouched but he’s now got an extra four boxes containing some quite cool stuff.

I’ve also told him he gets the rest and my comic art collection if anything should happen to me. So if anything DOES happen he remains the number one suspect. Or it’s the missus for the insurance money. Or both of them.

But hopefully if they read this it may scupper any temptation to cash me in...