Sometimes things happen when you’re not really looking. One day I had a toddler who still reminded me very much of the baby that she once was. And then yesterday, I turned around, and there she was, my little lady. With only the tiniest trace of the baby in her eyes and cheeks.
No longer requiring her usual warm-up time to be comfortable at a friend’s house – she just happily started playing. No longer the fussy eater who I have often cajoled into eating the tiniest morsel, but a toddler with an appetite of a horse. Where after four breakfasts, I start to lose track. No longer just single words that I have to attempt to interpret, but whole sentences. Like today, packet of linguine in hand, retrieved from the kitchen cupboard: ‘mummy – scissors for noodles?’. That would be a no to the scissors, but a yes to the linguine.
And last night (not for the first time) I heard a clunk and a cry coming from her bedroom. She’d hit her head on the toddler bed. Obviously, she’s just too big for it anymore. I went in, expecting that she would want to come into our bed. But she didn’t. She just wanted a quick back rub and her doona tucked over her and she went back to sleep. She didn’t wake up again until 6am. That’s a sleep in (for her).
I don’t know if I’m extremely proud or extremely sad. Probably a mixture of both. This growing up business is bittersweet. And time tears by so fast, I barely have time to appreciate it.
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My name is Zoey. 
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