We have a little morning ritual in our house, particularly on the weekends. It goes like this: my daughter wakes up and calls out that she’s awake and one of us goes to her room to retrieve her so that she can come in bed with us and snuggle under the warm covers so we all can attempt to get more shut eye. This morning, my daughter rolls over to face me and gets so close that her soft forehead is touching mine and her round, dark eyes are peering at me intently. She says with the sweetest morning voice, “I love you Mummy.” And of course my heart melts as I pull her in close to me. My dear little pea.
The day goes on and it’s a perfectly normal Sunday. Nothing major outside the routine. But my girl keeps on saying, on and off throughout the day, things like, “I didn’t love you before, but I do now Mummy.” I have to laugh, this is so typical of my life with this small person I love. She continues to tell me repeatedly on this particular day that she loves me- sometimes with a qualifier, sometimes without. Whatever the case, she’s figuring it out, and so am I as her mother.