At three and a half...

So, you're three and a half. You regularly tell me that waiting to be four is boring. A lot is due to happen then. "When I'm four you won't have to sit with me at bedtime Mummy." I think it seems such a long way away to you that you could promise me the moon because the chances of ever getting there are remote. I'm not sure what you imagine will be waiting for you in the magical land of being four but you're looking forward to it such a lot. 

Matching hair clips 

At three and a half you've spent your half term learning to swim and I have spent your half term crying with pride. I don't know why we cry when we're happy but we do. I do. Sometimes you get confused which tears are which. These ones have been happy tears. My baby girl, who was scared to walk over leaves, is jumping in the swimming pool. I can't help but well up, watching you try so very hard and looking so little and vulnerable in your swimming costume, hat and goggles. Like Christina Ricci in Mermaids.

I have watched you as you have visibly pushed past your apprehensions and you have told us that you are very proud of yourself. As you should be.

In case you don't live here when you read this, at three and a half you live in your "Brinkley house" which you are very attached to. "Mummy, I know now that holidays are not moving and we will live on holiday only for a little while. Then we come home. Right Mummy?" When I was little I was attached to houses too. I remember crying uncontrollably at the prospect of moving house and feeling like my world was collapsing around me. As you get older you'll realise that you can make new homes. But I get it sweetie, it's not just bricks and mortar is it. 

High Street, Brinkley, Cambridgeshire, May 2014

We've spent the day with Alfie and Ralph today and you've only just stopped crying after they had to leave. You just adore Alfie who has grown into the most polite, thoughtful and kind little boy. And Ralph's affectionate nature has not waned. A hug from those, just about still pudgy, baby arms is quite hard to beat. You three will be friends forever. I'm sure of it.

"I believe the nicest and sweetest days are not those on which anything very splendid or wonderful or exciting happens but just those that bring simple little pleasures, following one another softly, like pearls slipping off a string." ~ L M Montgomery, Anne of Avonlea

Me, you and your platypus

There's music from the 90s on TV. It was the music of my teenage years and it has always made me happy to reflect. Now though, I reflect with a touch of sadness because you weren't here. I'm not sure any memory will ever be quite the same now that I have you. I wonder if all parents feel like that? 

I said, "I love this song"

You replied, "I think it's a bit boring to my little head Mummy."

"I love you"

"I love you too Mummy. When you're not here I keep you safe with my head and my courage. That's why I love you"

You still use "that's why" in place of "because." And that's still ok. Those words all came out of your little head though. It's amazing how you've grown and absorbed enough to communicate your thoughts. I know all children do it but it's still amazing. 

We've done some cooking today. You've started quoting my cooking rules back to me. I've created a monster! "You have to make cheese sauce Mummy. Not buy it. That's cheating is it Mummy." You're using "is it" at the moment whilst you master the use of "isn't it". I never want to forget your journey with language. That's why I write to you. So we can both remember it in years to come. You worked very hard at your cooking today. My Nana was a cook, my Mummy loves cooking, I love cooking and I think it might be in the genes....

We had a break and watched a film. You hugged me saying, "don't worry Mummy" when I looked concerned for the children and Groo in Despicable Me. I had a tear in my eye at your little show of affection and you said, "it's ok Mummy, they're all together and safe now." 

You just asked if you could use me as a slide. I said that was fine:

"Mummy?" 

"Yes darling"

"Is it ok if my platypus slides on you too?"

I love you sweetheart. 

"For I am a bear of very little brain and long words bother me." ~Winnie the Pooh (A.A. Milne)

You, me and Easter

It's Easter Sunday and we're chilling at home, surrounded in religious symbols. You're amusing yourself making pictures with Fuzzy Felt I am pondering religion. A huge subject with lots of history, philosophy, psychology, geography and politics thrown in. I am not religious, but I am interested in all those other elements. I crave an understanding of why some people do believe. I think I have wanted someone to convince me over the years. No one ever has. I will never tell you God exists, nor will I tell you he doesn't. It's your journey to make. 

Why don't I believe? I just don't. I don't feel it. I believe in science, people, nature & philosophy. As we learn more, I adjust my understanding. I struggle with the concept of still believing in that which was considered fact over 2000 years ago. I believe the Bible is a historical representation of the time in which it was written. I also believe it was written by people, with perspectives, formed by what they knew, what they had experienced and what they wanted to put out there. That was over 2000 years ago. In political terms we are told we can't hark back to the golden age of prosperity, and that was less than 100 years ago. There is, however, a lot to be learnt from the Bible. We should all take what we need from it, as individuals, as people. How much or how little is hugely personal to each of us.

I put my faith in human achievement, life, love, discovery and learning. I have faith that being the best I can be will help you to want to be the best that you can be. I have faith that you'll do right by others and that you'll strive to create and achieve. I am thankful for what we have, just not to God. I am thankful to nature, science, family, geography, friends, philosophy and to the human condition, for my ability and desire to fully appreciate life for what it is.

I also believe you should reach for the moon, if that's what you want to do. This was what we did this Easter Sunday, we painted. 

Happy Easter baby. I love you.

Me, you & The Glamour of Italian Fashion

"Look Mummy, an elephant with horns"

"It's called a mammoth darling"

"Oh yes Mummy, a mammoth. We saw them at the dinosaur park"

"We did baby. They're extinct like dinosaurs"

"Yes Mummy. They do stink a lot!"

My conversations with you are lovely. You are lovely. Sometimes though, Mummy likes doing other things. Things without dinosaurs, or mammoths, or crayons, or Hello Kitty umbrellas (when it's not raining) or little chocolaty handprints on my tights. Yesterday was like that. 

Mummy and Auntie Lulu went to London for my birthday treat. 

We had lunch at a perfect little, family run for 65 years, Italian restaurant http://www.cosmoba.co.uk/ Auntie Lulu has been coming here since she was little. 

Then we went to see The Glamour of Italian Fashion exhibition at the Victoria & Albert museum. A beautiful look at the finest Italian design and craftsmanship from the Second World War to the present day. Dresses, shoes and jewellery to behold. 

I need my time for me. I want to be able to say to you that Mummy saw that exquisite Bulgari necklace that that beautiful lady in the film wore once. That Mummy's seen the real version of the picture on our wall, painted over 150 years ago. That I always miss you when you're not with me but I that had a lovely grown up day. I wore nice clothes, had some nice wine, wandered amongst things that you won't appreciate just yet and came home loving you even more. 

As always, I got you a little present.

You adored your new book about a little girl who goes to the same museum that Mummy went to in search of a hatmaker to mend her Granny's hat and finds herself on a magical adventure. I wondered if you'd listened to it all but today you told me that a milliner was a hatmaker, so I can relax. This was my way of attaching you to my day in a way you can appreciate. I'm biding my time until you want me to take you to see beautiful things, to learn where they come from, to see real paintings and to appreciate the world and everything in it. There is so much for us to do. 

I love you & I'll see you tomorrow.