I love my babies.
My little one is sleeping upstairs. Her head is a massive forest of tight brown curls, her eyes are big and wide and she is so cheeky. She walked with my shoes for the first time while I was out, she was here with her dad. He was made up. She is now starting to put a couple of words together, she says “scioom” for zoom and says “ghigo tam?” (has ghigo gone to Sam’s house again?) and if you ask her if she wants Coco Rocks she’ll point her little index finger into her bowl and flash you a big smile. Sometimes if she’s really excited she’ll nod frantically and pant quickly to express her enthusiasm.
My eldest is now starting to be a teenager proper. He sent out his picture upon request from a girl who lives far away whom he will be seeing soon. She asked for it and showed her friends who all texted back saying he was very cute. So he told me and he was embarrassed and confused and mystified but later when I tucked him into bed I saw he was also quite pleased and excited and happy about it.
Of course, my gorgeous son thinks he’s “a poo, my hair looks like zoom’s poo”. I explained it’s normal at his age to feel ugly, but I could assure him he was simply beautiful. Curls do make your hair life difficult though, it’s true.
My youngest son is off tomorrow to his friend’s sleep-over party, which will be held in something akin to a mansion, where they have all the latest hi-tech games and where he will be staying until Monday.
He is so excited but at the same time he occasionally comes up to me and hugs me and says he loves me. He makes me feel so privileged, I know one day he’ll be doing the same as he walks in after spending the week snowboarding down an impossibly steep cliff.
I love my babies, they are the best.
I love my babies.