You are sixteen months. Sixteen months. My sweet sixteen months little girl. But this month has been tough one for you.
Last week, Mummy went out on a river cruise for a 30th birthday and left you at home with your Daddy. Every hour or so, I got a text message of some description about you screaming, crying, and protesting.
I won’t lie, but at first I thought it was just the“Oh dear I’ve got the baby for a few hours and I can’t handle the crying” from Daddy. Or that you were just missing your Mummy.
But then hearing you hadn’t stopped screaming got me really worried. So I texted your dad to bring you and meet me at approximately the time we were due to dock. Knowing you were upset, made all the iPhone flashes and the fake smiles for Facebook even more painful for me.
So as I clumsily ran out of the boat (a miracle considering my heels didn’t get stuck between the decking) and I saw you pull up beside me. You looked at me through your exhausted puffy eyes. Your face red with fury still. I felt horrible. Just horrible.
I got in the car (kissed you and Daddy) and immediately started singing your all time favourite nursery rhymes. And in the middle of ‘If you are happy and you know it’, you obviously showed you weren’t and proceeded to vomit. Vomit out food. A lot of it.
You definitely weren’t just yourself – you were indeed very sick. You were off your food (VERY unusual) and developed a fever. The doctor confirmed you had tonsillitis. My poor baby.
There aren’t many opportunities for Mummy to not be a Mummy anymore. Even when she is supposedly having a couple of hours off, she is still always thinking of you. And there is indeed nothing wrong with that.
I’m glad you are back on the mend my brave little soldier.
Love your Mummy x