Isla: Mum, you ran OVER my Bugles! (We have graduated from Mummy/Mumma to plain Mum when she’s pissed at me.) Me: I’m sorry, does that really um, grind your gears? Isla: What? Me: Never mind. Sometime later… Isla: I’m still hungry. Me: I’ll fix you a plate. You better eat what I give you. (Ham, grapes that I thought were olives, and raspberries.) Me, again: Isla, c’mere and get your deconstructed sandwich. Isla: That’s not a sandwich. Me: Hence the…
Hello! How’s the week treated you? I hope you’re all good, but even if you’re not, let’s put the world to rights. If we were were having coffee show you my favourite picture from this week. Isla decided my wheels needed redone. I was very happy with them. Some things: If she says she’s experimenting, she doesn’t get in trouble. She knows my favourite colour. We have rolls of wallpaper for her painting experiments. Next time this happens, I’m gonna…
OK, so this actually just happened. Isla: I love you. And your wheelchair. You’re my wheelchair Mummy. I don’t want another Mummy. Mummy, are you sad? Me: No. Isla: Why you crying? Me: Because I’m happy. Isla: What? Me: Because I’m happy. Isla: What? Me: Because I love you very much. Isla: Yeah, I love you, too. Can I have an ice-lolly? …
On Tuesday, when I picked Isla up from nursery, she hugged my lap as she sometimes does. ‘I MISSED you, Mummy.’ ‘Really?’ I asked. She’s a Daddy’s girl, see. I am obviously still questioning every bit of affection she doles out. To me. ‘Yeah,’ she said ‘Did someone pay you to say that?’ ‘Uhm. No.’ When I’m happy, my eyes kinda crinkle up until you can’t see them. Like Isla’s. Because, y’know, I’m her mother. I did a little dance…
Are We There Yet? I can’t say much about my third hair and make-up trial. Because y’know, my future husband reads this blog. But I will say: Jackpot! He’s a lucky man. After I slapped myself in the face with make-up remover, I let him back in the living-room. We were waiting to go to Skye for the week. Off to Dad and Anne’s new house. With a separate suitcase just for books. Dad called and said, ‘I’ll be there…
