Five years and three weeks. We have done well to go this long before the “F-Word” was hurled at you over lunchtime chats at preschool by your so-called little friends.
And my heart broke.
Then filled with rage.
I thought we had a few more years.
But I have been preparing. I have been preparing you.
I have been preparing you for this since you were 10 days old.
Apparently, it is good if a baby “regains” their birth weight at the 10-day post birth weigh-in. You exceeded it by 900 grams, my little milk monster. Then continued to exceed all weight and height charts since.
At 18 months I got our GP to refer us to a dietitian – just to confirm my understanding of a toddlers dietary needs were accurate.
She advised you “grew like a Christmas Tree”. It sounded so pretty, but I had to get her to clarify.
You grew out (put on weight), then grew up (put on height). My Beautiful Christmas Tree.
Your Mumma does the same over the holidays. Without the height increase…
From the moment I knew I was having a daughter (which was when you came and told me in a dream at four months pregnant), I vowed to be a different mother than mine.