My little pumpkin
I want to write this post because I always feel like my posts are so negative and depressing sounding. Just a quick one, because I do not want to forget it. The other night, after we had done all the bedtime routine things, the lights were off, Pickle was in her bed, and I had just settled into my bed (ie: my mattress on the floor next to her bed) and was taking some deep breaths and preparing to finally relax for the first time that day, I heard a whimpery, whispery voice coming from her bed, almost tearful in its fearful panic. "MUMMY!" said she "I have forgotten what a turnip looks like!" Well. Being the intuitive and empathetic mummy that I am, I realised the catastrophic consequences this could cause later in life, and as such, hastened to rectify the dilemma. I showed her a picture of a turnip on my phone, and she instantly relaxed, snuggled with extreme satisfaction into her duvet, and went to sleep. The next morning, the first words when she awoke were ...