These hands...

Every morning when I wake my children for school, they behave in a starkly different way. My daughter lolls and stretches and waits til the absolute last moment before leaving her warm snug bed; my son literally opens his eyes, abandons his slumber dreams and shoots out of bed, wobbly and still half asleep. So every morning I take his hand and walk with him from one end of the upstairs to the other, to our room (our house is 'L' shaped) just to stop him stumbling as he walks. Its one of those daily parent/child moments that I savour. I'm feeling rather swelled with mother-love today after spending time reading some beautiful blogs written by Mummies with newborns. Takes me back to these days, my son day 6...with little hands and tiny fingernails...

And to think how they have grown up and can manage things like the egg and spoon race, my daughter year 5.

And now - nearly 9...

Now my daughter is so grown that those hands, they write. So this is an extract of a poem she wrote for me:

I love my mummy because she always helps me when I am hurt
or when I need help doing my spellings.
I think my mummy is as pretty as a mermaid going to a party.

Not just pretty, which would have been enough of a heart-melt, but as pretty as a mermaid going to a party... WOW.

P.S. If I were going to a mermaid party I would want to wear something like this...from Proenza Scholer... ;-)