The Luckiest Girl in the World

11 July 2007 On the ferris wheel in the Jardin des Tuileries, Paris.

Hello stranger.
It's been awhile.
What've we been up to in the last three and a half months?
You'll be pleased to learn that we've not had any further visits from the headlice. Saffron's also been twice to Singapore, once to Bali, visited Aunty Val (and her cardboard bed) in Hong Kong, missed two flights, consumed at least a hundred litres of organic milk, learnt to read, overcame her fear of cycling, watched 120 hours of CBeeBies, listened to Kaiser Chiefs and Pink far more than she should have, eaten about 5 sprigs of spinach leaves, cried when Same Difference didn't win X-Factor, and developed a habit of going through my magazines with a pen circling anything that takes her fancy (she has a penchant for mascara wands, stilettos, bright dresses and, rather worryingly, off-shoulder tops. Thankfully, she studiously steers clear of pictures of Gordon Brown and Ken Livingstone).*

Her feet have grown bigger (she's now a 27/28) and she's grown taller. Her new favourite ensemble is a grey Belgian polo-neck dress worn with grey leggings and brown boots.(She's been known to come home from school and change immediately into this outfit, just to sit in front of the telly to watch In the Night Garden on CBeeBies.)

She still chats non-stop from the moment she wakes till she falls asleep, takes Michael to bed with her everynight, reaches faithfully for her coe woe the moment she's tired, rummages through my bathroom drawers to help herself to my toiletries, and continues to put up with my nightly ritual/banter of "I love you", "Me too", "You love yourself?" "No, I love you."

Her favourite colour is still pink, she still subscribes to gender stereotypes ("Boys like Spiderman, Girls like Barbie") despite my best attempts to debunk them. She still loves eggwhites, chicken macaroni soup, wholemeal toast sans crust, yorkshire puds and vanilla ice cream (though not always necessarily at the same time). And she still wants to be "a Singapore airlines girl" when she grows up.

Sadly, she's outgrown her 'copydays' when she used to insist on dressing up exactly as I do (thank god for Comptoir des Cottoniers). She's also forgotten Alissa her imaginary baby who was in her tummy for the longest time and whom she used to pretend-feed and show to anyone by lifting up her blouse (those were slightly difficult times).

I get overly sentimental when I notice that she's starting to lose a habit because it reminds me how quickly she's growing. Thankfully some important things don't change. She still wants to sleep in my bed with me despite my half-arsed attempts to tempt her with her very own four-poster princess bed (I even suggested the possibility of pink sheets... such is the power of a mother's love). When she perspires in her sleep, I'm still the one to wipe her sweaty brows. Her nose is still very cute. And she still thinks my scrambled eggs are the best, bar none.

I guess you win some, you lose some. So she may no longer want to dress like me these days (wait - is that more a reflection of me or of her?), but conversely, she's now gotten into the habit of making cards and leaving notes for me almost everyday. They all invariably say 'Dear Mummy, I love you. From Saffron. +++++' (she can't do crosses the other way), but it's still pretty amazing to be on the receiving end of such constant validation, and even more awesome to think that my baby can now write and express herself in words.

Finally, one of my favourite new habit of hers is her insistence on leaving voice messages on my mobile phone. Ordinarily I loathe voicemail, but I make a point of saving Saffron's short little messages. And of re-saving them when they're about to be auto-deleted. So I can play them back when I'm away or travelling, just to hear her sweet little voice. Each time it reminds me of how terribly lucky I am. There, I've said it. Not nearly as embarrassing as I thought it was going to be.

*Surely you didn't think I only read fluffly, girly, airbrushed magazines?