To my children
August 31, 2013 § 1 Comment
Tonight I was struck by something: you are all completely, wonderfully, joyfully, happy. It’s bath time and my two year old daughter is cuddled up on my knee, sucking her fingers, squashed like a hot dog sausage inside a beige fluffy towel. Her eyes are smiling because she’s watching her favourite two things in the world: her brothers. The boys, four and six, are naked, gyrating in front of the mirror. Six year old starts singing ‘everybody dance, clap your hands’ at full volume, and starts butting his delighted brother with his bottom. Four year old then puts his hands by his sides and buzzes like a bee, waddles like a penguin, and zips off to my bedroom. Two year old sheds her towel and sprints after him, shrieking his nickname, “Li Li!” with that funny walk she does, legs splayed out like a just-born giraffe. I wander into my bedroom to hear the noise of giggling. The bed has three small, vibrating, lumps concealed beneath the duvet. God, the hilarity. The hilarity of practically every moment you spend together. You are exhausting, yes, there’s never an off-switch. Everything is done at full volume, immediately, energetically. There are some serious children about. But you lot – I just hope you remember this. When you look back at your childhood, perhaps looking for justification as to why you are the way you are, I want you to remember. Yes, you may have been the middle child, or the only daughter, or the indulged eldest, but you are all truly happy. And loved. And enjoying every moment.