just when you think it’s impossible to love someone any more than you already do:
- she walks proudly up the stairs in her all in one pajamas with orange spots on reaching up to hold the banister rail and singing, “Three More Mice” (her own version of the song about the blind ones having their tails removed by some mad old bint with a carving knife)
- she tells her Grandmother that watching the Tour de France bicycles rush by almost arms length away while eating an ice cream with a chocolate flake in it was ” ‘citing Granby but NO horses and no MUUUUSIC, Hopey like feeding ducks” at the same time as gesticulating dramatically on each “no”.
- she says goodnight to her new pink sandals as she puts them by the door ready for morning, “night sandal, night other one sandal”
- she brings you pretend chocolate cake while you’re doing the washing up and when you’re in the bath
- she stands in the hall with her hands clasped infront of her singing “I can sing a rainbow” as if she were performing it to a packed Opera House, just because she feels like it, not knowing anybody is watching or listening
- when her Granby tires to film her singing she puts one hand up and very firmly says, “no video, no picture, Hopey sing Hopey self”
- at the village feast as we walk through the gate to go in she turns round and wags her finger at you, “Mummi listen, Hope want face paint, OK?” So, we went in and found the face painter, “What would you like on your face little one?” “Hope want bicycle” “Ohhh that’s unusual, not a butterfly or a cat” small silence “Okay, Hope want two bicycle AND butterfly” … so she did!
- at the same village feast she went on her first bouncy slide, she bounced up the walkway, hairtuft flying, she scrambled up the stairs, bounced across the top, plopped down on her bottom and hesitated for a split second, concentrated and slid down shouting, “wheeeeeeeeeee”, with the proudest most joyous of grins.
- she plays in the paddling pool, looks across at you sitting dryly on a nearby blanket, splashes herself, chortles and runs full tilt toward you with her arms outstretched, leaps and gives you the biggest, wettest hug which knocks you sideways.
- she has a babyccino (oh yes how middle class, I know I know) for a treat once in a blue moon, a cup of hot frothed milk in a small cup with chocolate sprinkles on top … and she drinks it so carefully, turning the cup to put it back correctly on the saucer and so so proud of herself, all the while with a frothy milky moustache.
- she runs and runs, comes over to give you a hug and says, “thirsty, Mummy, Milky”, lifts up your top (or pulls down the front of your dress) and has a “quick sip ‘ankyou Mummy”, and then when she’s utterly exhausted at the end of the day snuggles up and says, “Milky”, and snuffles and feasts until she falls fast asleep, her arms over her head with a far away smile.
Every single day I think it’s impossible to love so deeply, and ever single day I am struck by the fact that I love her even more, and no not every moment is joyful or fun, we have tough nights when she wakes up beset with tooth pain or having had a nasty dream, she is incredibly determined about what she wants and doesn’t want, she went berserk when she had to get off the bouncy slide, and with reasonable frequency throws handfuls of her dinner onto the floor … but none of it bothers me, she’s just learning, just finding her way and as people seem to say “testing boundaries” and I’m sure I was far worse… whenever she’s fractious or refuses to eat, Granby sits and smiles as if I’m getting my just rewards for being a monster child to her some 40 something years ago.
Hope want bicycle
bouncing all the way to the top
