Her: getting every last sprinkle out.
Only one more week of me being a mother to a two year old as this little peachy is about to turn three.
Queue deep breaths and acute bouts of sentimentality.
Just like with my own birthdays, the day itself isn’t the hard part. I feel the pangs of time passing are at their worst in the lead up to the event. It’s as if the closer we get to the calendar page flipping over and it being her birthday, the more I try to grasp on to the things that make her still seem so small. Her mispronounced words, her bambi legs as she tries to run after her big brother, the way she grasps a crayon in her fist…
Soon these little everyday moments will be memories of the two year old version of Shine, and in their place I’ll be looking at a girl who runs confidently, learns to hold a pencil and works out how to use all the consonants at our disposal.
For the next few days then, I’ll linger and grab hold of her teeny frame a little tighter and try to commit every detail to memory.