Tuesday, 23 September 2014

Sofia you are three...

...it feels like it ought to be more than that - you are and have been, such a big part of our lives. Vivacious and carefree. Independent and strong. Feisty and determined. Funny.

You look so much older. You are tall my girl. Often wearing age four to five year-old clothes since you were two. That athletic build of yours announcing your passion for the outdoors.

Your white blonde locks wind in part over your bright eyes and cheeky grin, and now cascade down your long back. I suppose I ought to cut them again, before you do.




Mischief is still your middle name. However these days instead of eating the soap at any opportunity, you'll go for my lipstick, pulling my handbag under the table, until you and it are hidden from sight. The other day I found you beneath a blanket concealed with Esme's lip gloss. It was everywhere. And there was you. You grinning at my grimace.

It is easier now though.

I remember about six months ago, you disappeared. I honestly thought you'd been nabbed and I felt physically sick. You scooted your way out of sight, unbeknown to me off the lane and up the hill. UP the bloody hill. I found you on your descent. Delighting in your independence.

I was reminded then of the time, Kate, Ian and I walked from Baffins to Southsea seafront when we were small. About three or four miles. It was the 1970's. Mum must have been going out of her mind. Apparently we just upped and left. I was about three.

Fia honey, revelling in rebellion; you've done your best to drive me bonkers. From consuming birdseed out of the garden feeder to appearing with as many chocs stashed within your smile as the previously unwrapped box would allow. Oh and how familiar is that look? The one that says 'BUT IT'S OKAY MUMMY. SEE HOW CUTE I AM.'

Of course we have revisited A+E. Frankly, it wouldn't be a post on your progress without referring to hospital somewhere within it. This time you fell somersaulting down the steep garden steps and not only almost broke your crown - but your foot too. You know Fia, you actually took the stone bird bath with you? Your shocked foot fattened and blackened immediately, and stayed like that for weeks.

Be careful now my carefree and fearless (fear free and careless) Sofia Faith. That's another of your nine lives used kiddo. 

You've started nursery in earnest now. Four sessions a week at two separate environments, and just as I'd assumed, you've taken the new setting in your stride. I love that you've embraced it with your all - no doubt it won't be long before you'll have wrapped your new teachers around all ten little fingers too? And when you have, and then when you lose it one day, I can't wait for them to witness that tiny temper in full pelt.

Also taken in your stride has been the change from toddler to little girl. A cot and a dummy and a nappy all gone within the space of three months. Your transition to big girl bed and dropping the pacifier was far easier for you. Indeed, when you tumbled top to toe with the bird bath that day, I had wanted to buy you one at the chemist en route to casualty. You coped. But then of course you coped.

The potty. Well that took a little longer, and only when YOU were ready Sofia, did you attempt it. Oh but how you conquered it. Within a week you were dry.

As you have morphed from two to three, your milestones have left me a proud and excited Mummy. We are moving on. Life as it is has improved for both of us. You've been in a hurry to grow up. And me, well I am in hurry to have you grow up. (Age four has been my goal since you were born - don't get me wrong, I love you so much but I think life will be much more fun for all four of us then).

That said, I'll settle for this September, and your turning three. It has allowed us both a new found freedom. My mornings are peaceful. Yours are not. Both are busy.

As I sit here in that stillness and contemplate you and your zest for life Fia, once more I am reminded of your Great Grandmother Kathleen Mabel. She too carried the largest amount of room in her heart. You're lucky my girl. To be so confident. So chipper. So chaotic. We are lucky too. So lucky to have you. We love you so much.

Welcome to age three.