Soother model’s own
My youngest is two today
Happy Birthday Miss L.
My girl, my baby, my doll.
Two.
We’ve left babyhood behind and are racing through the toddler years.
Two.
Where has the time gone?
Two.
I want to slow things down.
She’s growing so fast.
Where’s my baby gone?
But then I look at her.
She smiles as she asserts her place on the couch, shouting as she directs her brothers what to do. (And what not to do).
She giggles as she calls me “silly”, shrieks as she chases the boys around the house pushing her doll’s buggy.
She sits quietly humming to herself as she draws, choosing colours.
She carefully places clips in her own hair and counts them as she does.
styled by Laoise
She begs to try on new clothes and twirls around for approving compliments.
She needs “sump-ing ta eat” all the time so she asks for it, and if not served quickly enough will start foraging in the fridge or breadbin.
She sits on the floor “reading” aloud to herself.
She has her own scooter, bought to end fights, and she can scoot pretty well for a two-year-old.
She wants to grow up.
She’s ready.
She’s independent.
I can’t hold her back.
I’ve to ready myself.
And then she’s tired and she stands in front of me. She lifts her blonde head slowly and hangs her lip as she talks, her big blue eyes imploring, arms raised up she asks “Mama, carry me?”.
So I do, because she might be two but she’s my baby.
She’s a big girl in her own eyes, but sometimes she wants to be the baby again.
And that’s fine by me.
She’s my baby, my girl, my doll.
The Birthday Girl.
