Dear Molly.....it's written in the stars

Tonight you wanted to count the stars. You counted six and were delighted that you'd counted them all "all by my own." You don't need to know that what you could see is a smaller fraction of what's actually there than you'll ever understand. I want you to be amazed and delighted by your own perception of reality before I try and force the mechanics of the universe on you. "Yes baby, you counted them all and they are very beautiful"

In your own sweet way you wanted to share this amazing discovery with the 'people' closest to you. You held Right Bunny up, making sure her face was pointing towards the sky and you said "look Right Bunny. Look at the beautiful stars" then you turned to me and asked me to leave the curtains open so Right Bunny could see them while you had your bath.

Reality and facts and science are important, of course they are, but so are emotions and people and imagination and childhood. I want you to learn, to grow, to care and to marvel at the world at your own pace and with an open mind. Maybe one day you will choose to tell your baby that the people they've loved can watch over them as stars and when they see a star shoot across the sky they can make a wish and that, if they want it badly enough, they can have a star of their very own.

See you tomorrow sweetheart. I love you. Mummy x

"When you wish upon a star

Your dream comes true" ~ Leigh Herline & Ned Washington (1940)

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

Dear Molly, it's firework night, 2013....

I have the fondest memories of bonfire night. When I was little, your Grandad Foster used to do fireworks in our back garden and all of our friends in the neighbourhood would come round to watch. Your Nana would make sausages and hot potatoes for everyone. I would watch out of the window all day with the utmost concern that the threat of rain would turn into a reality and my dreams would crash around me as fireworks were cancelled, my friends would hate me and life would be over. This stuff is so important when you're little so, don't worry, I haven't forgotten that.

This year the afternoon rain was torrential and I had that same sense of despair. But for you this time. You were so excited and I really couldn't bear telling you there'd be no fireworks. Especially after I had tried to gently suggest that they might get cancelled if it's too wet and you just said "Yes Mummy. Are we going to fireworks now?" So, we wrapped up warm, grabbed a brolly and off we trudged, full of hope! 

You carried your own umbrella and in my head you were Singing in the Rain with Gene Kelly and Debbie Reynolds. So sweet and so determined to get there.

We arrived and had hot dogs in the pub while the rain continued and I thank the stoic British spirit of Giles and Janie at The Brinkley Lion for the evening carrying on regardless.

By the time the bonfire was lit, the rain had stopped, you had your glow stick and we waited for the fireworks. 

You declared it was a "very brilliant fire Mummy." I agreed. It was.

You loved the fireworks and cheered and laughed after each one, especially the one that's "crackling like Rice Crispies Mummy!" I half watched them and half watched you. Your little face, filled with amazement, was worth a thousand fireworks. 

I love you so much and will be forever grateful for the wonderful memories we have together. Bonfire night 2013 was a cold but lovely evening and exactly what I wanted for you. I hope you think so too. 

Lots of love, 

Mummy x

"Remember remember the fifth of November

Gunpowder, treason and plot.

I see no reason why gunpowder, treason

Should ever be forgot..."

Dear Molly, tonight you were sad...

Being your Mummy is not always rose tinted. But that's life. Tonight was one of our more challenging evenings as tiredness caught up with you. Because you're little you can't walk as far as me and I have to remember that your emotions are the same. Your tired state meant you couldn't cope with "no" or "bedtime" particularly well and tonight it brought on a tantrum. 

Your little tantrums have the same phases regardless of the cause. Feet stamping-shouting-fake crying-me getting annoyed-real tears because Mummy's sad-lengthy recovery from the whole episode-hugs and repeated "that's why I love you Mummy"s  so as not to leave me thinking that this whole affair was because you didn't. Well, for the record, I love you too baby. Somehow even more when you have a tantrum because I want to reach out to you. To make you better. To dry your eyes. But I have to accept that, sometimes, you just need to work it out yourself. That's the best way to deal with your problems I know that. I also know that I can't fix everything but I will always be here when you're ready for a cuddle and will try to make you smile again.

You calmed down and through the last of your sniffs and sobs you told me that you did "want to be an explorer and think of all the animals who live in the sea Mummy". It's your favourite bath game and five minutes earlier you didn't want to do it "that's why I am too sad Mummy." I was glad your sadness had subsided enough for normality to return and was delighted when your sad little face turned into the tiniest of smiles at my, frankly quite poor, octopus impression as we duly thought of all the sea creatures we could. 

And all warm and dry in your pyjamas you climbed on my lap and asked if we could read The Smartest Giant in Town again. We read it last night when you weren't sad and I think you wanted to recreate that feeling by reading it again. I sometimes misjudge how much you take in. I think my stories just entertain you for that night and that you just look at the pictures but you really do listen. Tonight you made me stop at the end so you could tell me that "his shirt is on a boat as a sail for a goat. His tie's a scarf on a cold bee(gi)raffe. His belt helped a dog cross a bog and his shoe is a house for a mouse." And then you declared how kind George was and how all the animals were really happy now. I told you I was really happy too and we had a big cuddle. You made me sing the "sunshine song Mummy" (a last bit of reassurance that everything was ok) and I tucked you in to your little bed with Right Bunny and Teddy. Sweet dreams sweetheart. I love you moon and back million times. 

Mummy x

"You'll never know dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away" ~ You Are My Sunshine, Jimmie Davis & Charles Mitchell (1939)