One for the memory box

Hard to imagine I'll ever forget this peg, this hat, this bag, this smiling little face. But I know I will. I'll probably even forget A's nursery class is called bananas. I'll forget her morning ritual of putting her drinking bottle in its place, her stuff on her peg, finding her name card and velcroing it to the wall, her excitedly taking her Monday morning show-and-tell to her teacher* (who I'll forget is called Mrs Sibuns), and rushing to take her place on the carpet with her little friends until she remembers that she forgot to say goodbye and running back to give me a kiss and a hug.

Thank goodness for blip.

A morning of Anna memories today as I spent a long time clearing out no longer played with toys and books and no longer fitting clothes from her room. Some will make their way to the nursery, some to charity shops and probably far too much to our loft for my 'granny box'.

Sometimes I think I'm a bit rubbish about my kids growing up. Or just a bit torn. I love to see the people they are becoming. I love to watch them grow in confidence as they move ever closer to being independent beings. And I am delighted with who they are and how they are in the world. And I'm not sure I'm going to be great at that them not needing me bit. On Saturday J told me he was too big to hold my hand now. I said fair enough but it wasn't what I was thinking.

I suspect this means I'm normal. And thankfully so are they. Still a bit pants though.

A bit deep for a sunny Monday but there you go.

Lesley x

* the elephant collage from Saturday for today