Dear Ameli
I’ve started this letter to you so many times already, and keep deleting what I’ve written because what I’m writing just doesn’t quite match up to the intensity I’m feeling. This has been a full-on month in our story.
You are two years old. We had a birthday party for you at home. It was a Winnie the Pooh themed party and despite being really tired, weak and still somewhat ill, I put on my best face for the day, and tried to make it a good day for you, whether you’ll remember it or not.
But it was just one day, and while we had fun, and you and Daddy and I spent a day at Legoland afterwards to celebrate and we then went to Granny and Grandpa on your actual birthday, you won’t remember it. That’s not important. I will.
Legoland was great – we went about a year ago and you were just too small to go on any of the rides, but this time not only could you go on the rides but you loved them too – especially the fairy tale ride, which was really sweet.
While you and Daddy were at Granny and Grandpa, I was on a course to become a baby massage teacher, because, well, I love teaching, I like being around mothers and babies, and I miss working, but I don’t want to work full time and I don’t want to work for someone else, so I’m excited about this. Also, because it shows you that working doesn’t always have to involve sitting behind a computer!
Speaking of which… you had an altercation with my laptop this month, dropping it off the sofa and causing it to refuse to ever switch on again. This is impressive, as the day after I bought it, it had ants crawling out of the keyboard, and in South Africa I put it on the roof of the car and forgot to put it in the car, so as we turned onto the highway (motorway) it went flying off the car, bounced on the road and settled nicely on the side of the road – and survived. If it makes you feel any better, I hated that laptop. The keys always stuck.
Since then though, your standard response to most things has been ‘You must buy a new one’, pretty much regardless of what it is we’re talking about! I’m going to have to get you out of that habit.
It’s not all been fun and games, if I’m honest. You’ve entered almost on cue into a time of exploring your boundaries, stretching our patience and testing limits. Your favourite word is no, and you suddenly hate having your nappy changed. You’ve also developed this utterly charming trick of screaming at the top of your voice when Daddy and I try to talk to each other. Then when we look at you, you say ‘talk to me’. Because, you know… we neglect you the rest of the time. Or not.
Anyway, Princess. It’s an adventure with you. I’m pretty sure I’ve learned as much in the last two years as I have in the 30 before.
Love you, baby.
Mama.
