thought overload

Posts tagged ‘growing up’

The Princess no more?

The Princess is growing up.

Gone are the days of tutus accompanying bikini tops.

Gone are the dolls and dress ups.

Gone are the times when she would throw herself across my lap and promptly ask, ‘ Can you tickle me, Mum?’, with hand outstretched.

Gone are the headbands.

No ‘frou frou’ for this girl. It’s no frills all the way now accompanied with cries of, ‘I’m too old for that now, Mum’.

Last night, however, a small glimpse of the little girl reappeared. My little pig-tail wearing, bunny slippered girl in the pink satin pajamas poked her head out for, what I believe will be, the last time.

The Princess had decided to give up her rather large room for  her sister and new niece, to accommodate everything needed for a three-month old baby ( did I really have that much stuff?). With the room exchange finally complete, and with several wrong turns followed by ‘Oh my God! That’s not my room anymore!’, night came and, there was a sudden realisation that set in. I watched The Princess avoid the ‘new room’ at all costs. Fussing and fiddling with her bed time routine led to mock-sleeping on the couch.

Finally, a whisper in my ear, ‘Mum, will you sleep with me tonight? I don’t like my curtains’.

I got my little girl back, even if just for one more night.

Mum, you’re a toolbox – thanks for the memories

Tonight,I decided not to do the dishes or the laundry and ignored my dirty floor. Instead, I played with my son.

I love the nonsense times, the uncontrollable giggling and the ridiculous words that ensue. Tonight was no different.

Nonsense

Master 6 is still young enough to enjoy the silly use of words, nonsense rhymes and a good old tickle session. I know that perhaps by this time next year, he will not. Sitting on the couch tonight, we were making up ridiculous names for our body parts. With each new expression came loud bursts of laughter and goofiness and some of it was him too. Our legs were labelled body-transporters, our arms became go-getters, our bellies were described as recycle bins and our bottoms are now affectionately called waste disposal units. Ears are earba speakers (he used to say earba when he was a toddler, instead of ear) and eyes are radar readers. Utter silliness that probably doesn’t sound all that funny to you, dear readers but, to us, we were absolutely the next best thing in comedy.

But wait. Master 6 points to his head and asks, “What do we call this Mum?”  “Hmmm”, I said “That is your toolbox”

“You’re a toolbox, Mum” he said to me with a huge grin and eyes fixated on mine. He may as well have told me I was the best Mum in the whole world because at that very moment, when my son told me I was a toolbox, he told me how much he loved me.

Playing with your children and making memories. That’s just about the finest moments parenting offers. When your children grow up they will not remember if the dishes were done on time. They will not remember how dirty the floor was some days and nor will they remember if laundry was sitting, waiting to be washed ( please, please don’t read Mother Guilt now). Children remember stories told,fun times, adventures taken, great memories made and they should all involve you. It is not too long before they get older and don’t want to be around you that much. They grow up and spend less time at home and they move out. Then they come back.

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