You're 4!

You have changed so much in this past year. From a squishy toddler into a beautiful, caring, inquisitive and thoughtful little girl with the apparent wisdom of someone far beyond her 4 years. 4, I can't believe you're 4! Although I am painfully aware that I'll be saying, I can't believe you're 14 before I know it so here's me, capturing our lives in letters so as to cherish each stage for ever. 

We went to Cambridge today to spend your birthday money. You chose a Mr Men book, a story about a boy who befriends a whale...

 ...a marble run game...

..,and a little bag of gemstones and a yo-yo. I can't pinpoint it exactly but a combination of the city, the season, the sunshine and you made me so very happy today. 

Sitting on the wall together by the little round church in Cambridge, we ate our jelly beans

In the lift in the car park today you, as you always do, clung to my leg in case the lift light went out and you wouldn't be able to find me, in the 2ft by 2ft space! I put my hand reassuringly on the side of your face holding you close to me, as if to try and stamp my protective instinct into you, like pushing a coin into clay, leaving an imprint forever. You must remember though, no single person should ever be your everything. That's not to say "don't love," just don't forget to be there for yourself. Look after yourself. Always know how to make yourself happy. Be considerate to others and never stop caring. If you can do this I know you'll be just fine. And then so will I. 

Have fun being 4 sweetie.

“She made herself stronger by fighting with the wind.” ~ Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden

"Is that a real pyramint Mummy?"

"Do you mean pyramid? 

"No Mummy, you're saying it wrong"

"But it's called a pyramid"

"I know Mummy, that's what I said" ~ Me and you, just now watching Despicable Me

Our Sunday

We went to Cambridge today on a beautiful, cold & sunny day.

You complained that the boring traffic jam would make us late for Cambridge. It didn't. 

You chose 'Peck Peck Peck' in the bookshop. It's about a little woodpecker learning to peck. 

You also wanted Mr Sneeze. Just as a friend for Mr Jelly, who's apparently a bit lonely.

So you got both. 

We had lunch in Wildwood in Cambridge. You spent a long time on the maze and made me pick every tiny piece of basil out of your pasta before you'd go near it. You liked it once the "nasty green bits" had gone.

Mummy spent her birthday money on these new outfits despite your pleas that the top one was "a little yellowy Mummy"!

Then we listened to this wonderful busker sing Chasing Cars, gave him 50p and then went home to watch Lady & the Tramp. 

A happy day. 

"I promise I love you"

On the way into Cambridge today we had a chat:

"Why is the car bumping Mummy?" 

I replied that it was the little holes in the road. Silence...

"Or maybe it's little rocks Mummy?"

I agreed with that as a possibility. Silence...

"OR turtles Mummy?" 

"It's probably holes darling."

"Yes Mummy....or turtles."

Me and you :) 

As we arrived in the outskirts of Cambridge you declared, "it's so pretty here Mummy. Cambridge has lovely buildings." The voice comes out of my pretty little three year old girl but the words could be those of an old lady. Sometimes odd. Sometimes funny. A lovely juxtaposition though. 

From our cafe, we watched the people coming and going at the bus stop and you talked me through what might be happening. 

"That man's waiting for a bus Mummy."

"Yes darling."

"He's on the bus now Mummy."

"Is he sweetheart?"

"It's taking him home.....or to the jungle maybe."

"Maybe."

"Now that lady is waiting...OH! The man's bus is back from the jungle already."

"That's a different bus baby."

"Oh."

You carried on chatting for a little while, happy with your own interpretation of the bus stop's comings and goings and I was happy to just listen.

I know all parents feel the same and that this is nothing new but I want you to know how I feel right now. Me at thirty six years old and you at three. In a similar way to not being able to comprehend infinity in space, I struggle to elucidate how much I love you. I look at your three year old face all questioning, excitable and caring and I could just burst. Your little body wrapped up in your winter coat and your little feet in your warm winter boots make me want to hug you forever. I adore your little girl's hands tightly gripping Right Bunny and I love how much you adore that rabbit. I love your evolving grasp of language and how you currently spin things to your advantage by slightly misusing "I promise..."

"Put that in the bin darling." 

"I promise you can do it Mummy."

Tonight I told you to choose the bedtime story. "I promise you can read the London book Mummy. Your favourite."

"Thank you darling."

"In an old house in Paris that was covered with vines lived twelve little girls in two straight lines..." ~ Madeline in London, Ludwig Bemelmans (1961)

Night night sweetheart. See you in the morning. I love you, from Mummy x

Dear Molly, the cinema can be a little bit scary...

Today I took you to the cinema for the first time ever. I feel like I might have deprived you by not taking you sooner. More truthfully I think that I feel like other people might think that. I often feel like the world is judging me. Are they? I think most parents wonder about this from time to time.

You looked so perfectly small and overwhelmed in your big seat

I don't want you to ever stop being overwhelmed sweetheart. I won't flood you with all the experiences life has to offer you too quickly. The world has so much in store for you and you really don't need to do it all at once. I couldn't bear it if the little things you love became so commonplace that you were no longer amazed or excited by them.

You were definitely overwhelmed here!

You were a bit scared during the film. Maybe scary snow monsters in 3D was a little ambitious for my sensitive little girl. A strategically placed Right Bunny over one eye and the comfort of Mummy's arms saw you through the scary bits. You were very brave although when the wolves appeared you did turn to me and ask, very politely, "could we go home now Mummy please?" You carried on watching but your little body felt tense. I'm not sure you trusted that those wolves wouldn't be back. I know that, as your parent, I should be toughening you up and not shielding you from the world but, at the same time, I want to preserve your delicate nature. I never want you to become desensitised to the things which scare you or touch you in some way. Being frightened for the safety of the characters in a film shows me your capacity to care and, I've said it before but that is such an important quality baby. Don't ever lose it. 

I love absolutely every fibre of your little being and my sole aim is to provide you with an environment which promotes the growth and development of everything you are...including some gentle introductions to scary things!

See you in the morning sweetheart. All my love, Mummy x

"Fear makes us feel our humanity" ~ Benjamin Disraeli (1804-1881)

Dear Molly, I love autumn, Cambridge, coffee & you...

Today was one of those beautifully hazy, damp, cold, colourful autumn days. I love this time of year. I feel peaceful in autumn. Warming up is so much nicer than trying to cool down.

Today was Sunday and, as we often do, we went to Cambridge for breakfast. At our favourite spot in our favourite cafe we watched the students, the tourists, the scholars, the children and their families walk past our window and go about their business. You saw a small boy walk past and you asked where his Mummy and Daddy were. "Maybe he will find them soon Mummy." You love watching people and Sunday morning in Cambridge is a great place to do that. Behind a cafe window, warm and happy, the air filled with chatter and the smell of coffee. It's reminiscent of my favourite film where autumn and winter are the essence of the film and everything I love about it.

Love Story ~ Erich Segal (1970)

You waited so patiently for your poached eggs and had a wonderful pensive aura about you. I hope you were as happy to be there with me, as I was with you. I didn't feel the need to talk too much. I wanted you to enjoy the atmosphere without interrupting you. You chatted when you were ready.

After breakfast we went to the bookshop where you delighted the lady at the till by telling her all about your book voucher and how "you use them to get books." You went on to say, "it really is very clever." She smiled and agreed.

On the way to the sweet shop you entertained everyone with a loud rendition of your very own song about making a big honey pie for your Mummy!

On the way home we followed a horse box and the horse was kicking a lot. I said he didn't look very happy and you said, "maybe he isn't happy because he was naughty at horsey school and they are taking him away from his horsey friends because he was naughty....maybe? Maybe that is why he is sad Mummy?" I said that sounded like a very plausible scenario. You looked pleased. 

We went for tea and cake and to look round the Christmas barn before we went home. Your little face was so delighted with all of the sparkly baubles, stars, winter animals and snowy pine trees. You said, "look Mummy, another snowman!" You shrieked, "I didn't know they'd have two snowmen! I am so lucky to see two snowmen." I love how much you appreciate things. Don't ever stop.

I had a perfect day with you darling and I hope you loved it too. Lots of love, as always, Mummy x

"Love means never having to say you're sorry" ~ Erich Segal