At three and a half you've spent your half term learning to swim and I have spent your half term crying with pride. I don't know why we cry when we're happy but we do. I do. Sometimes you get confused which tears are which. These ones have been happy tears. My baby girl, who was scared to walk over leaves, is jumping in the swimming pool. I can't help but well up, watching you try so very hard and looking so little and vulnerable in your swimming costume, hat and goggles. Like Christina Ricci in Mermaids.
I have watched you as you have visibly pushed past your apprehensions and you have told us that you are very proud of yourself. As you should be.
In case you don't live here when you read this, at three and a half you live in your "Brinkley house" which you are very attached to. "Mummy, I know now that holidays are not moving and we will live on holiday only for a little while. Then we come home. Right Mummy?" When I was little I was attached to houses too. I remember crying uncontrollably at the prospect of moving house and feeling like my world was collapsing around me. As you get older you'll realise that you can make new homes. But I get it sweetie, it's not just bricks and mortar is it.
We've spent the day with Alfie and Ralph today and you've only just stopped crying after they had to leave. You just adore Alfie who has grown into the most polite, thoughtful and kind little boy. And Ralph's affectionate nature has not waned. A hug from those, just about still pudgy, baby arms is quite hard to beat. You three will be friends forever. I'm sure of it.
"I believe the nicest and sweetest days are not those on which anything very splendid or wonderful or exciting happens but just those that bring simple little pleasures, following one another softly, like pearls slipping off a string." ~ L M Montgomery, Anne of Avonlea
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