We visited some friends at the weekend, we hadn’t seem them for nearly 6 months, but we hadn’t been there long when she started asking for specific toys, and wanting to see the cuckoo clock on the wall with a cow in it and not a cuckoo. Her memory surprises me constantly, and it was fun to watch her remembering where things were and in particular a blue plastic laptop which told stories of a tank engine called Thomas, his carriages and a fat conductor.
I sat with in the kitchen with my friend, while her husband (another of my friends!) played with their son and my daughter. It was a happy time, occasionally one of other of them would pop downstairs for a hug / snack / glass of wine / slurp of water.
We set the world to rights while she chopped vegetables. Both small folk came down demanding a snack and she gave them a small pot of pleasingly orange carrot circles (as opposed to the lush yellow recently chopped pieces of pineapple on the side of the table) … they headed back upstairs to play with their trophy, they came down a few minutes later for another pot full which she consumed before they’d even reached the stairs.
Sometimes when she sees her friends, they play in the same space but not particularly well together, there are constant cries of “Mine” and the inevitable “he / she took my car / dog / house / biscuit etc etc etc”, not on this occaision. They played well, they shared, they laughed, they ran around the kitchen on all fours pretending to be sneezing dogs, apparently the best game ever, and they chased each other with stuffed tigers before settling happily at opposite ends of the house, one with lego, the other with the coveted Thomas the Tank ” ‘pooter” … silence.
Supper started to smell wonderful, the table was laid, and jobs finished we three adults sat down to chat.
Small person ran in and started a little dance, a thoughtful dance with her hands above her head, she pirouetted about the lovely airy kitchen and then started her bottom wiggle dance, something that a few of them do together at playgroup to make their mothers laugh.
Simon stood up to go and get another glass of wine, my twirling wriggling small person ran over to him and gave him a hug, and then started dancing again, joyfully. Then he was nearly bowled over when she suddenly broke off and bolted across the room and hugged him again.
“My, Hope, you’re full of beans today aren’t you?”, he said smiling down at the exuberant little soul before she turned to head off. She got to the door, and looked back at him quizzically and said, totally without guile, “No!!! Carrots!”, and dashed back up the stairs to knock her small chum’s lego tower over.
She was … full of carrots … not beans … they were still in the saucepan.
It was just one of those perfect toddler moments… she then went on to eat a full roast dinner and enjoyed it so much she picked up her plate at the end and drank the gravy, something I think shocked my wonderful and very polite friends rather, but then she put the plate down carefully, wiped her face with her sleeve and spontaneously announced, “Thankyou! I finished it all up! That was lovely!”.
My friend said she’d never been so complimented with such appreciation on her cooking before.
Happy times!
