As I flash back to the first year, a host of emotions overwhelm.
The lack of everything- of wherewithal.
I was the rabbit caught in the headlights.
How could I possibly give my child everything she needs?
Six years old.
She is the most independent child I could have hoped for.
And yet, on a day to day basis frustrates me.
She is a daddy’s girl.
And whilst daddy tries his best, he really is a push over.
I am so proud of her intelligence.
She loves to read, she loves stationery, she loves the theatre, and baking- how else could she make her mummy happy?
She loves camping, swimming, and eating- how else could she make her daddy happy?
Who sat in the back of the car this weekend. And with my new tactic- rather than the first to earn three points for good behaviour, the first to earn three points for poor- and lose a treat.
“Mummy, if I have really good behaviour, do I lose some of my points?”
Speaks she, who is at 3 points as the M25 meets the M4.
“I don’t know, mummy really hoped you wouldn’t get to three. Why don’t you close your eyes like your brothers [bad behaviour and tiredness are always interlinked], whilst mummy has a think. Would you like my coat as a blanket?”
I look in the mirror and see my coat draped over her, with the hood over her face. We are all at peace.
I hear a voice.
“Mummy, I am grateful that you have saved all of your money for us to have this weekend away. And that, you decided to take us, whilst daddy was working, and you looked after us, and made sure we had a wonderful time. Thank you mummy.”
Every little bit of happiness.
“Mummy, have you decided whether we lose our points with good behaviour?”.
Every ounce of me.
Six years old today.
And still, I am clueless.