We tried something different this half term: we didn't try. Instead of elbowing for room at the museum, we caught rain fairies in the backyard with a butterfly net. Ana concocted a pink gauze castle, which also doubled as a spider's web for Ali (courtesy of a long-suffering, half-broken birthday present from Tanta). The weather was rubbish, but we were happy.
I used to dread half term, because pre school was a survival crutch for me. It was the only thing that made looking after two very different little ones even possible. Ana and Ali used to live in different galaxies, but they are nearly on the same planet now - still not my planet, but we are getting closer. Now they can chase and tackle, and hug and cuddle each other. When Ana gives Ali a kiss, she squeals with delight. It's perfect.
Last week I realized that I miss seeing Ana around in the mornings during term. It was such a pleasure to get a solid week with her, and I am looking forward to next half term already. Somewhere along the way she turned into a little person, with a rich imaginary world running full-tilt in her mind non-stop.
darker days with two babies underfoot. It was my attempt to piece my tired mind back together. Now I want to record precious, finite days just like this, before they slip through the cracks of my forgetful memory and disappear out into the ether.
finger-painting and toy slapstick here at Chaos HQ - I have my troubles too, and some of them aren't even imaginary. But I prefer to focus on the silly stuff and the quotidian moments of pure joy, because that's my means of escapism. I reckon I won't even remember the worries in five years, but I want to remember the nonsense forever.
The first thing I say to my girls every morning is: 'I'm so happy to see you!' And I always mean it, more than they can possibly imagine.