There is something about a hug from your child that completes you.
My children call them huggles…an irreverent mix of hugs and cuddles. A huggle fixes you…pure and simple magic from the hearts of my gorgeous offspring. Their huggles have brightened my day (and nights).
The little things that they say fill my heart with joy. I fear that one day I will forget the feel of beautiful little arms around my neck, the weight of my tiny tot in my arms.
“I very love you Mummy”
H has the cutest habit of adding very into every sentence.
“I very want some sweeties mummy.”
Evie whenever she has a blood test using her thumb…proceeds to tell everyone that she has a poorly flumb. I do so adore her little flumb.
There was a time that she would say that something was broken but it didn’t sound like broken…it sounded like f***ed…much consternation and horror on our part until we realised what she was trying to say (think broked).
Our children are so precious. Their little quirks and idiosyncrasies are what makes them them.
H with her verying…Evie with her Evieing.
Today has been a pig of a day. I’ve dashed Evie off to two urgent appointments and squeezed a full weekly shop in the middle.
Soooo the day starts with bribing Evie at the dentist’s, her teeth and the source of bleeding are examined and sorted…
Haha if only it were that easy. Evie my angel is the queen of procrastination and diversion. This child deserves a permanent audience…my personal attention is insufficient. She is funny. I shouldn’t laugh as it encourages her but oh my…she senses your weakness and goes in for the kill. Entertaining doesn’t cover it.
Then we bob to asda…she pushes the trolley…more into people than I would like but she’s helping and helping herself to cakes and sweets along the way. By the time we reach the checkouts she’s bored…bored rigid…so lobs all of the contents of the trolley that I aren’t quick enough to grab onto the conveyor…my poor misshapen bread. Satisfied with her handiwork she grabs her “Something Special” Magazine (bribery!) and then lies on the floor by the checkout reading. My skin thickness is around about the size of two rhinoceros hides…I carry on and leave her to it. She’s happy. She’s in no one’s way and she’s safe. I can see the amused faces of many people and a few not so amused.
Evie is happy. That makes me happy. She’s in no one’s way. There’s no need for the Judgey McJudgey looks, no need for any sympathetic looks…we’re alright thanks very much. Yes she’s full of it but she keeps me alive…she’s my spirit.
A short while later we go to the hospital. By now Evie is fed up of the car and queueing…me too! She proceeds to ask everyone she meets their name. Her lovely doctor is shown Evie at her most charming, if not slightly manic.
And the hilarity when she tells him her joke…yup the knock knock joke…
Cue hysterical laughter from her and hysteria from me.
One blood test later and we’re done. No, it was far from easy. Yes, I felt like lying down in a darkened room afterwards and the nurse may have said in jest…”Now, now Mum, no need to roll your eyes” when it was revealed that it wasn’t a “simple” flumb but full blood test yacht was needed.
If I could bottle my children’s personalities, their laughter, their imagination, Evie’s Evieness…I would be a rich woman indeed. These children are our world. Our future.
I couldn’t give a damn about an extra chromosome. Evie is our child and she like her father, regurgitates the same old jokes 😂
Every child has the right to be.
The right to love.
The right to learn.
The right to laugh.
The right to life.
PS (I told H what PS meant yesterday, no she didn’t care less but thanks Mrs. Hill for teaching me Latin) Evie is going to have a sleep study, further querying her sleep issues. Bless that doctor…she’ll have to actually sleep for it to work 😂😂