It’s ten past eleven, I’ve just arrived downstairs triumphant as Ida has finally passed out in her own bed. As I flop on to the sofa, turn SITC on and pick up my knitting Steve announces he’s off to bed. Gah.
I’m REALLY missing grown up alone time. Is it wrong to put a lid on the cot? Is it? I know this passes, all things pass, when will it pass? It’s not so bad as it’s half term at the moment but next week is going to be a killer. I’m not a morning person.
On a much more cheerful note Ida presented me with a picture of myself today. It really looks like a person – more by coincidence than anything else but this will not stop me celebrating.
You see…that’s my head at the top, with an eye. I’m wearing shoes – blue ones apparently.
I’m calling Mensa tomorrow, maybe the Royal Academy.
That’s if I can drag myself out of bed.
Actually Ida draws a lot more than Zeph used to. She likes to draw while Z’s doing homework I think she’s trying to copy his writing producing long lines of tight spirals. I like watching the intense concentration while she does it. She sticks her tongue out just like Zeph used to.
She likes to bring you a pen and some paper and request animals but woe betide you if you draw them with legs. She likes to add the legs – lot’s of them so in the end everything resembles squid.
I know – this is all very trivial – but in my late night stupor – what I’m thinking about, what I want to remember, is the joy she finds in steering a line across a blank page.
And I want to find that joy again for myself. Is this why we have children, to remind ourselves?