I wonder if it’s possible to love someone more each time you see them. What am I saying? Every time I see this tiny replica of myself with her big brown eyes am sure my love for her grows ten folds. Each time I hear her speak my heart widens with love… each time she wraps her tiny self around me like she is doing now my eyes get teary filled with the happiest tears my body could possibly make.. Oh how I love her.
“How was school today Ella?” I ask as we walk to the car.
She is two years old now and in baby class. Everyone thought it was too soon. But Ella decided it was what she needed. She put up quite a good argument too. She sat me down two months ago with a very serious look on her face and went like” Mummy I love reading and I want to get better at it. So I think we should talk about me starting school.” Adorable right!! Oh, my smart little girl.
I would like to believe she got the love of books from me. Ever since I knew I was pregnant I would sit down with a book each night and read to her, I kept doing so when she was born and now, it’s our favorite time of the day. At the end of each day, she stands to survey the books in her room and chooses one and I read it to her till she falls asleep. She rarely falls asleep before the story ends, and even then she always has a million and one questions. “What happened to the princess mummy? And what about the talking birds? And what about the mouse that helped her? Mummy, can mice really make clothes? She is the best.
I repeat my question as we near the car; she was busy waving at her classmates and teachers. She probably didn’t hear me the first time. Talking about her day at school is our second best activity of the day.
“I didn’t like school today mummy,” She says as I strap her into the car seat.
I look at her surprised and concerned. Ella loves school. She loves learning. Each day she tells me how she can’t wait to be the one reading me bedtime stories.
“And why is that hunny?”
She looks up at me through her lashes, the sparkle that was there when she ran into my arms has faded, and instead there is a watery layer to them. Her lower lip is trembling. Please don’t cry baby. Mommy will make it all better. I hold her tiny hand in mine and look into her eyes. Ella doesn’t like being rushed; she always takes her time to find the right words to say stuff, just like a little lady.
“Teacher Amy was teaching us how to write our own names, our mommy’s names and our daddy’s names today…”
My heart drops to my tummy. My insides flip.
“I wrote my name really well because you taught me that day at home, I also wrote your name mummy….” she goes silent, almost as if she didn’t know how to proceed.
“But I don’t know daddy’s name mummy…” she looks at me; the watery eyes have now formed at the edge of her eyes, ready to drop any second. She blinks, and they roll down her cheek. I wipe her cheeks and fix a smile on my face.