September is the best month. It is without all the weight of summer expectation and the light is crisper, sharp and gold. I love this time of year. It’s also the month when my firstborn made her entry to the world, she’ll be 4 in a few weeks time.
I spent most of that month larding around in our garden, the size of a house, eating brownies and wondering about this tiny person that I was about to bring into the world. Then, after she was born, I spent a lot of time wondering when she was going to start talking, so I could have some kind of insight into her world. First words came – the usual – mummy, daddy, booboo (our dog). Further developments were also pretty standard fare for a one year old – you know, Money, Bag, Pizza – the important stuff.
Fast forward to last week. I am summoned to the toilet by Rose, with urgent, and very loud yelling.
Rose: MUMMY!!! (most of our interactions start this way). MUMMY LOOK! (I make my way over)
Rose: Mummy look!! (points to the recently filled toilet). A number six poo!! (it is indeed a very large poo with ‘shape’). (Incredulously) My poo thinks I’m six, instead of three!!
Other recent gems include…
Rose: (after a haircut) Be careful! I dont want to ruin my new sparkly hair.
Does my hair glow in the dark?
Later, at the dinner table. Silence. Everyone eating.
Rose: (out of nowhere) Is Easter the time Jesus wakes up? (rapid fire) Was Jesus the one who was killed? What does Jesus mum’s voice sound like? What did she sing?
And, later still, my favourite
Rose: When I grow up I want to be a cleaner.
I love that little girl, but I still have no jeffing clue what’s going on in her brain.