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Two Special Books

There are two little books that give me a great deal of pleasure. They aren’t expensive or clever or literary. In fact at least one of them is falling apart and the spine is broken. The other is ring bound and the paper is hanging within it precariously. One has an owl sticker on it and the other has a hedgehog.  They are both more valuable than my iPad (emotionally, clearly).
They are the books that go back and forth with my girls to their pre-school.  In those pages lie the stories about what they have learnt, what they have done and how well they are getting on in life. Some days amid the chaos of getting the train home, cycling up the hill, being welcomed with happy smiles that sometimes turn to tearful cries, the bedtime routine which is sometimes smooth, sometimes fraught, always special in the end, I forget to look at these books.
Then when I remember I read them greedily, gorging on the stories of Tilly’s pride in painting a star,  learning to recognise her name, cutting vegetables, singing at circle time. Or Eliza’s confidence on the bikes at break time, pouring the drinks at snack time, telling her teachers about Peregrin Falcons (“the fastest animal in the whole  world!”). 
Sometimes I read back to when Eliza started pre-school and I feel my eyes stinging with pride at how she’s grown. I see the evidence that Tilly is not far behind her, that my two little girls burn bright with curiosity and fun. The rush of love takes my breath away.  
Someone asked me the other day why I felt the need to share these stores about my children with the world (which was an over claim I thought, it’s just a blog written by a mum, hardly the BBC news site).  But it was asked in a rather cynical tone. I just answered honestly. I write this because one day I want my girls to read it and know how much I loved them.  
He replied, “Can’t you just write them a letter?”  
He has a point I suppose, but one letter would never do it. Sometimes when I’m sad or if I miss bedtime or just if I’m feeling really crap about myself as a mum I read random posts and they remind me that I’m getting better at this and that my girls are developing and growing beautifully. 
It’s about things I want to remember. Like the painting we did at the weekend. 
And how ‘horsey’ is Tilly’s current favourite toy and how he reminds me of my childhood for some reason.
And how at the end of the day, they leave me for a while and disappear into their own world of dreams, and how they can never sleep without an armful of ‘friends’ to keep them company. 
It’s the moments in time that a blog can capture that are important to me.  Just like those two little books I suppose. 


  1. I totally get it so ignore that cynic! It will be a lovely selection of memories to share with your gorgeous girls when they are older and sure they will love it!

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