A letter to my beautiful daughter (or as Jo Swinson would prefer Dear Fugly)

You are without doubt the most frustratingly brilliant person I have ever met.

Your beautiful brother is totally amazing too but we’ve seen it all before and are therefore less impressed. (Am I allowed to call my son beautiful as he’s a boy?)

I wanted to write you a letter to capture where you are in life as things are moving pretty fast. You are 2 ¾ years old, your favourite foods are pesto, sausages and fruit.

Although you demanded grass for breakfast today.

In a southern accent.

It is half term and although you and your brother are not in school yet as a family we suffer. Our daily routine (Get up, poo, fight, playgroup, lunch, afternoon of fighting) is sent all to cock.

Yesterday I took you to a session where a lady brought in some unusual animals for you to touch and hold. You held a snake, a rat and a cockroach and saw a tarantula and a giant African snail.

Afterwards there was the usual playtime and snack, a biscuit.

All you have talked about since is the biscuit.

In fact you are still talking about it today. I hope as you grow older biscuits retain their air of fascination for you. And you remain unimpressed by snakes and rats crawling all over you.

You are a lovely big sister and often help by opening the stair gates for your baby brother. This  morning when my back was turned (OK I was on the loo) you informed me that your brother had emptied the bin all over the floor and was eating rubbish. Thank you for attempting to tidy up by dragging the bin liner down the hallway.

Half an hour cleaning the pair of you up and we were on our way to messy play (there’s definitely a joke to be made about this but I was too busy wiping to work it out).

You wanted to paint a picture of your daddy. It is not very good but he will say it is the best picture he has ever seen, he may even cry. It is the first time you have ever painted a picture that is not just splodges. ( It is still just splodges.)

Not keen to get messy yourself you encouraged your brother to nose dive into the bath of jelly and  roll in the rice crispies then got upset when blinded by cereal he walked over your painting so you pushed him over into three different colours of paint.

I was forced to apologise for the mess you both made.

At messy play.

You haven’t yet learned to blow. It was your brothers first birthday recently and we let you blow out the candles .

We watched your eager face turn red with effort as you sprayed the shop bought cake with globules of gob until you had drowned the tiny single flame with your spittle.

Mummy and Daddy don’t really like chocolate cake anyway.

Thank you for making me glad I hadn’t gone to the effort of baking a cake.

Your favourite question is ‘Mummy what are all the peoples doing?’  We walk round the supermarket providing a constant commentary on events in the aisles, like an audio description for the blind but in real life.

‘That man is choosing some cheese, the lady is buying some food, they are arguing in the vegetable section, now they are embarrassed about arguing in the vegetable section’

You are learning new words everyday and your questions are becoming more and more embarrassing and difficult to answer.

‘Why is that lady old? What are those peoples? ‘

We are but a few new words away from total embarrassment.

To my eternal shame you are not yet nappy trained. I think this may be payback, I was so proud when you started walking at 9 months now I am embarrassed when people notice you are still in nappies.

You could not care less.

You: Mummy what’s that smell?

Me: It’s you darling.

You: Oh.  (continue kissing baby brother and calling him Lucy)

Right now you are asleep all hot and sweaty on the sofa dreaming of daddy and biscuits.

And I have written this, so that one day we can look back and remember just how brilliantly frustrating you were.

11 thoughts on “A letter to my beautiful daughter (or as Jo Swinson would prefer Dear Fugly)

  1. Beautiful. A lovely reminder that these are precious days and we should treasure them even when our patience and sanity is tested to the max.

  2. Hilarious! My little girl is 2 and a half and started walking at 9 months too but is still nappies despite me trying to get her out of them on more than one occasion!

    • Glad it’s not just us! Have had several half hearted attempts at potty training… roll on the good weather!

  3. I am in tears laughing. My son always tells we what he has eaten when I ask him how he has enjoyed [fill in expensive entertainment].

  4. She sounds fantastic (and I’m a big believer in they potty train in their own time … I’m not just saying this because I was in night time nappies til I was 4.5)

  5. Fantastic. My two yr old likes to loudly ask “WHAT THEY DOING?” and point at…everything. I see problems in the future with this one, but for I tend to fend everything off with “I don’t know, ooh look a duck/tractor/car/cloud/banana”.

  6. I found your blog via Unfashionistas Twitter, and I am so glad I did! I have just laughed till I choked in the office reading this, and I dont even have children! Totally brilliant blog, keep up the hilarious work.
    If you havent already, introduce yourself to Recipe Rifle, you would make a great double act!

  7. Pingback: A guide to play with pre school children - Eeh Bah Mum

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