Yesterday was one of those mornings every parent of small children has experienced many times over. You wake up heavy with tiredness and the cold that’s been threatening for days. As you blearily fumble in the bedside cabinet for tissues and any drugs you can find, you say a tiny, pathetic, hopeless prayer to any god who might be bothered to listen: “please, just let her sleep late today, PLEASE”. Then, inevitably, the snuffling sound of a child who is not only awake, but also joining you in the cold will come over the monitor and you’ll know exactly how the rest of the day is going to pan out.
So, having forgone bounce and rhyme at the library, for fear of spreading our bugs, tooled up with cbeebies magazines and endured an entire episode of “Show Me Show Me” I managed to get a whining Evelyn up to bed for her nap. We’d not been delighting in each others company that morning she was annoyed that mummy wouldn’t let her shred an entire box of tissues on the rug and I’d resorted to putting on radio 4 over lunch to have something to listen to other than my own tinnitus and her constant low level whinge. But as I held her in my arms, all bundled up in her sleeping bag, she gave me a big cuddle then looked at me and said “love you very much”.
She’s a wily old bird mother nature, just when you are questioning the entire concept of Human procreation, never mind the wisdom of your own involvement in it, your little one says I love you and it’s the best medicine in the world.