21 September 2013

To Molly, my chatty little girl...

You've always had a lot to say for yourself. Currently it is all hanging together in a beautiful blend of what's important to you, a fantastical make-believe world, what scares you and what's happening around you. I could listen to you for hours.

Today we went out and got you a new toy sweet shop as a treat for staying in your bed at night. When we got home we set it up and I suggested you sell sweeties to your toys. In your own voice you said "would you like some sweeties Scuttlebug?" Your deep voiced impression of Scuttlebug followed "yes please shopkeeper, I'd like lots." Your voice "well only if you save some for later." Silence. "Oh don't be sad Scuttlebug." And you bent down and hugged your little trike. Possibly here you were demonstrating that being told to save one's sweeties until later can make one a little sad...even if one is a trike. 

Clutching your new toy today

Scuttlebug waiting patiently for his sweets

Your favourite conversation at the moment is about when you were a baby. "Tell me what I did when I was small Mummy." And you do your funny little belly laugh at tales of backwards crawling under tables and mashed sweet potato on your nose. I think you get the whole 'baby grows into bigger person' concept but you occasionally throw me with a curveball comment like "when I am small again I won't be able to open doors." I try not to get hung up on the biology and just enjoy my sweet little conversations with you. After all, you also said tonight "when I was an elephant I used to have a trunk. That was a long time ago Mummy." You say things so earnestly and I love your imagination, even when it overlaps with reality.

Lunch in Cambridge, just before you sung Twinkle Twinkle Little Star to the other customers 

It rained a bit in Cambridge today. On the way home you asked "is it still raining Mummy?" I told you it wasn't and you shouted as loudly as you could "it's ok people in Cambridge. You can come out of your houses to enjoy your day now." You craned your neck to look out of the window and exclaimed "oh! They didn't hear me." And then you thought for a while. "Maybe Mummy, the people in Cambridge are all scared because one of them saw a polar bear? Maybe that is why they're not coming out Mummy?" Possibly your elaborate way of querying the presence of polar bears in Cambridge.

Keep chatting baby. It's my window into your little world and it's beautiful.

I love you x

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