It’s been over three years now since you came into our lives as a little, bum-shuffling, bottom-swaying, 14-month old bundle of pure energy. We’ve been with you watching you grow through so many different stages and here you are now, a 4 year-old little (or big, as you prefer) girl about to start school.
You are leaving your nursery friends behind in whose company you at first seemed so shy, but who, on the last day of nursery ever, were shouting your name and hugging you and laughing with you as we went through the nursery gates. And to see you shouting goodbye to your teachers, calling them by their names, filled me with pride.
You seem to be taking these changes in your stride now; you’ve grown to have so much more self-confidence. But we know the move to the “big” school is going to be hard on you, as change has ever been thusfar. Except for the day we brought you home; the change from foster home to our home, with your forever family, did not seem to phase you at all. Mummy and I planned to stay awake in shifts through that first night, listening for any signs of distress or unease. But you slept through the whole night and we woke you to receive smiles and giggles. And you’ve slept well and long ever since (with the exception of New Year this year, when you arrived at the top of the stairs at 1.30 am announcing, “I feel left out.”)
We have watched you grow in confidence – a precursor being us wheeling you around in the pushchair at 20 months, you waving and smiling at people as you passed – and with that a beautiful and inspiring sense of fun, and our feeling that you receive so much joy from the world around you. You are kind and thoughtful, careful and caring of others, boisterous and sometimes demanding, but always with a little smile on your lips. When you feel hurt you are not afraid to express it.
Our conversations at bedtime are the highlight of my life and it makes my heart burst watching you and Mummy together, like peas in a pod.
Our love for you is boundless, my beautiful girl.
Your Forever Daddy
P.S. One word of warning, though. If you ever stop reaching for my hand when we are out walking together, I’ll dock your pocket-money.