Mornings

Dear self,

Please don’t forget (even if the next thirty years are very busy)

that this boy won’t get out of the bath until he’s handed you two ducks and a frog to dry off first

that ‘nana’ seems to mean ‘banana’ or ‘mummy’ or ‘COME NOW PLEASE’, depending on who-knows-what

that he’s going through a phase of signing ‘thankyouplease’ when he wants something, just to cover all the bases

that he requests Bob the Builder (‘DEE DEE DEE DEE’: translation – ‘can we fix it’) or Alphablocks (‘ha-HA!’: from the theme tune) to watch while you get ready, and doesn’t seem to mind when you hair-dryer all over the sound

but that sooner or later he ends up here

and he finds the taste of hairspray weirdly appealing

and you haven’t put mascara on with both hands for about eleven months.

(Happiness is this, my wrinkly old-person self; please remember that happiness is this.)