Letter to Bobbin - ten years old

Happy Double Digits, Bobbin! You are TEN. A decade. 3,652 days old.

Smalls, I can't begin to describe what an amazing human you are. Your dry sense of humour cracks me up all the time, and it is very hard to keep a straight face if you've done something you weren't meant to and you come out with an on point, one line zinger. You balance caring, compassion, sass and fierceness. You are strong mentally and physically, and I often wonder how I got so lucky to have this badass, bird-flipping firecracker in my life.

You took up Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu this year on top of your usual Mixed Martial Arts, and you've really taken to it, learning all these new moves. You entered your first BJJ competition last weekend. I wasn't sure what the look on your face was because it seemed to me you were bored or didn't want to be there. Turns out, that was your game face, trying to psych out the other competitors into thinking you weren't going to try, because the second the match started you were ON. I told Dad about it and he said "Oh yeah, didn't you hear what she said as she walked on? No mercy".

You won each of your three matches by submission in the 7-10yo mixed category - and each with an arm-bar, your absolute fave to bring in when you see the opportunity. You were racking up points, and I won't lie, I didn't understand them very well. No one managed to score any points against you, and you won your first round in 23 seconds - which freaked me out because I thought it ended because you'd accidentally hurt your opponent. Nope. She was fine. You managed to see that arm bar opening early and she couldn't move, so she tapped out. You were thrilled to get the gold medal and stand on the podium.

Another martial arts thing you started is Leadership. You have been hanging out to be old enough to join! You are learning how to be an instructor and each week you are the assistant in the Ninja Ru program for three and four year olds. You were nervous to begin with, though you're really starting to get the hang of it now. Hearing you use strengths based language and using modelling and praise of attitude and effort to get these tiny tots to follow along shows such maturity and spirit. 

You started cello this year! We were so excited to hear you got accepted into the music program as the rest of us all play an instrument - but you're our first string instrument (I don't really count the one year I played cello because I was terrible at it). It was hard to get you to not play when you didn't know how to adjust the bow properly, and a string did manage to get snapped as you 'discovered' how to tune it. It just shows how eager you are to do everything. When you're focused, it's like a laser, and you can be there forever. You have put in SO much effort and practice a lot, producing a really lovely tone. You even got an A on your first report card! A testament to all your efforts.

A big hair cut was a change of pace for you. It started with wanting a super blunt fringe which you were so happy about, and then, after years of saying you wanted hair as long as possible and it getting all the way down to your hips, you wanted it above your shoulders. And you wanted it done NOW. You had to be patient for a few days before we could get there, but when we did you sat there, told the lady how short you wanted it, and closed your eyes to stop the few tears that were forming from rolling down your cheeks. She cut it below your shoulders to start, you opened your eyes, smiled, and said "shorter". You LOVE it. And you've asked to go shorter still - which is tricky because it still needs to be out of the way for sport, so we're looking at clips and different styles so you can get it cut shorter soon. The short hair accentuated your changing face, and you look all grown up all of a sudden. You're not a little kid anymore, babes.

The intuitiveness and compassion you have towards others is astounding. You wrote me a vision board on neon pink, heart shaped post it notes because you thought you could be a good mental health worker. You would be, actually. You accept everyone for who they are and strive to understand the people around you. You invited me into your office (the play room) and said you'd put lots of thought into this and I should quit my job because it was making me stressed. It also said I should eat more chocolate. And give you chocolate. So I've done all three. Because you are right. Life has been really hard for us as a family these past two years, and you helped me realise I wasn't prioritizing us. 

We celebrated my new found freedom (unemployment?) and took time to reconnect by staying at a hotel overnight - a girls mini staycay! I got you GOOD! You had NO IDEA. I took you around part of the city and showed you where Dad and I got married, and said "let's go inside and see if we can find the things from my wedding photos". You were a bit nervous, thinking we were breaking the rules... but you listened intently and recreated a photo of Dad at the hotel. I'd given you a special code to crack that would leave you with a three digit number and told you to find the door with that number. You found it, and whaddyaknow the key unlocked the door. We went inside and you said maybe we could stay for a few hours and relax? I invited you to look around; you saw the massive bath and said "I'm totally getting in there!" then you ran and jumped on the bed. When you looked in the cupboard and found your suitcase that I'd dropped off earlier, your face was priceless. So THAT'S where your missing pink bag went! Do you know how hard it is to keep a secret from you and squirrel away your belongings without you noticing? It was impossible! I had to lie to your face saying maybe you'd put it in the dress up box. We had a gorgeous time galivanting around the city, dressing in pink to see The Barbie Movie, meeting a friend for coffee, having the biggest bubble bath around, ordering room service, staying up late, and meeting up with Nanna and Pop for lunch. It was brilliant making memories with you, Babycakes, and I loved reconnecting with you.

You are still utterly obsessed with art and will happily spend hours hyperfixated on all things crafty. Whether it's creating polymer earrings, colouring in, painting, hydrodipping, digital art on procreate, or sculpting with clay, you want to be doing it at all times. You have filmed yourself, pretending to be a TV presenter or YouTuber, giving step by step instructions for others to follow. You get so into it you even forget to eat sometimes.

You have dealt with some grief these past twelve months with the deaths of two great grandparents with trips to Albany for their funerals, plus the death of my friend, who you'd met a few times on picnics and shopping trips. Each time you have written a beautiful goodbye letter for them saying you loved them and thanking them for being in your life. It has been beautiful and heartbreaking to watch you process grief for people that you weren't particularly close to, but meant something to you. Hearing you ask questions about death and life, meaning and connection, is astounding. I remember saying you were a brand new soul when you were little because you never stopped, you wanted to know everything and asked so many interesting questions. It seems like you're trying to learn the secrets of the universe - I think I'm the wrong person to ask.

Upside down or rolling around continues to be your default mode. You have so much energy and unless you're in art mode (or binge watching the same TV series over and over again on screen day mode), you never sit still. Nanna calls you a fart in a bottle. 

It's not been the best year for you at school, and you've been extremely bored, coming home covered in texta and pen up and down your legs. You tell me you do it there because it's mostly hidden and you don't get in trouble that way. That spicy brain of yours needs stimulating and if you aren't interested you just drift off into your own world. It frustrates you a lot, and you sometimes say your brain is broken. I wish you could see how brilliant it actually is. You've developed a great number of skills and techniques to help all by yourself and it really impressed me. You will turn anything into a fidget, and turn everything into art to keep your brain focused. You've come up with all these systems and structures to help with the areas you struggle in, and I'm just amazed. The things you do like about school this year are cello and art (and now your new classroom teacher that you've had for a week). You come home talking about art class and how much you love it, how you wish it was every day, and how great your teacher is - she thinks you're pretty special, too. I wouldn't be surprised if you followed in her footsteps and combined your love of art and teaching.

Pain is a major issue for you, and we're working with your specialist to find the right balance of medication and activity for you. It's tricky because you are SO competitive and sporty, but your body falls apart and you end up paying for it. We're working on listening to your body and stopping before it gets too bad... and it's a work in progress. You won the interschool throwing competition last year after breaking the school record, and this year you've been really disappointed in yourself for not being able to throw as far due to your shoulder subluxing. Your 'wings' pop out on demand, but also sometimes when they're not meant to, and combined with a default mode of 'push as hard as you can' this means trouble. We'll continue to work on it together, Babycakes. You went on an amazing camp for kids with chronic pain - away for seven days and loved it all with not a hint of homesickness. You made some great friends who get what it's like to have a body that doesn't always do what you want it to do.

You are ten going on sixteen, my strong, determined, tenacious, fierce one. You're determined to start your dog walking business this year (because I've been saying no for two years now), and I have visions of you spending all the money on Squishmallows and slime. It's a tricky time with a teenage sibling, and your own world expanding into tween-hood and discovering who you are. You still absolutely must do our special kiss when we're separating (I kiss your left palm then right palm, you kiss my left palm then right palm, we rub noses, kiss and cuddle), and I can see you're starting to not want to do it in front of others, feeling it is too baby-ish. But I know you'll get through these hard years of change ahead and focus on the connection and joy around you. As you say, you've got this, girlfraaaand.

I love you.

Mum x

Letter to Bobbin - nine years old

Happy Birthday Bobbin!

Another year around the sun, and another year of being a super cool kid.

It's hard not to lead with the coolest brag ever: you managed to become the youngest Black Belt our dojo has ever had at the age of 8. You absolutely nailed the grading; you were SO ready. I was anxious watching your katas because in the mock grading you got a bit nervous and you forgot some of the moves (that you could usually do in your sleep!). The Shihan reminded you that it's not about getting everything perfect, it's about how you recover from a mistake - funny that I can say it and it doesn't count but when the dojo crew say it, it does! Doesn't matter which way the message gets in, it helped take some pressure off, and on the grading day you sailed through the katas.

Your pushups were on point and your sparring was an absolute joy to watch. You dominated against people older than you, but the moment I was most proud of was when you pulled back a bit. A boy your age who was going for his brown belt was a bit intimidated by you; you advanced and connected some great shots, and it was a bit much for him and he cried and wanted to stop. You downshifted your momentum, made sure you didn't connect any more head shots, and moved to be more defensive than offensive, giving him an opportunity to rise. I was lucky enough to be filming you when it happened and I've rewatched it so many times - both to see how focused and determined you were in the first half of your bout with him, and to watch that gentle shift and see your compassion shine through in the second half. 

You even came away with two nominations for gradee of the day, which for a tiny little eight year old is impressive! Well, it's impressive to your mum at least. After over two hours of hardcore grading you went to a trampoline centre for a party and then spent the afternoon playing... your energy level is mindblowing.

You've always had a wicked sense of humour but your wit has developed so much in the past twelve months. I am forever laughing at the funny things you say; always using a biting wit with a touch of sarcasm to get your point across. Some of your one liners are so fast that it won't be long before I won't be able to keep up. The other day I said "Wow, what did I do to get such an awesome kid?" and you raised an eyebrow and said, dryly, "You had sex." I nearly keeled over laughing so hard.

Upside down continues to be your natural go-to position to be in. Handstands and bendbacks galore, and since you perfected your splits you usually do some combination of all of them with a flourish at the end. You're such a performer, singing and making up dances with your friends (or just in front of the mirror- half your time is in front of the mirror). I know you're getting a microphone from a friend this weekend, and I cannot wait to see you light up when you unwrap it. You're having a Dance Party that goes until 10pm and I can't decide whether I'm a cool mum or an idiot for doing it! You've asked for a Party Llama cake and have helped me create the Llamas party hat, and want to have a go at doing some of the icing. I'm so excited for you to give it a whirl.

You've been filming yourself creating all sorts of things, pretending you've got a YouTube channel. Sometimes it's you teaching people how to make different shapes with magic sand, or your own cooking show, or dance academy. The commentary is absolute gold to listen to. Recently you spent a weekend in Albany and used the GoPro to film yourself on the bike track with full commentary including a "oh crap, yeah careful on that corner, nearly fell off there". You have a passion to share knowledge and whilst you still talk about becoming a police officer, teacher is now firmly up there when you're asked what you'd like to be when you grow up.

I received the most amazing feedback from one of your teachers. She approached me to say you were an amazing human, wise beyond your years and a fantastic role model to your peers. She said you are the instigator of brilliant conversations and have educated your classmates about the LGBTQIA+ community. She said you inspired her. I was so blown away. I've always thought you were sensational, but I'll admit I'm biased so it was genuinely lovely to hear such glowing feedback. Your strength as an ally and advocate to your sibling makes me ridiculously proud. So much compassion and kindness in a tiny little package.

You helped create a placard and marched alongside Tricky and I to fight for LGBTQIA+ rights earlier this year. It wasn't your first protest, and I'm sure it won't be your last. You've created signs and posters to hang around the house and an 'all genders welcome' sign that you've proudly hung on the front door. It's fitting that your birthday falls on Wear It Purple Day this year! You make everyone feel welcome and that Social Justice streak in you is mighty strong.

Alfie is never far from your sight and you continue to smother him in cuddles at every possible moment. He still lets you dress him up and play, and even snuggles on your lap for a "bottle" (a spray bottle that he loves to drink from) that makes you melt. A few reminders to leave him be are needed because we all need personal space, even The Floof. You're desperate to grow up so you can walk neighbourhood dogs and even dog sit... maybe start by walking your own dog more often though, babes?

You continue to amaze me at all times. You never, ever stop, and are bouncing off the walls, cracking your knuckles constantly, talking a mile a minute, and can never sit still. That brain of yours works super fast and it's both beautiful and chaotic at the same time. You're an intriguing mix of confidence and reluctance, smart and silly, competitive and compassionate, strong and vulnerable. You're a beautiful imperfect whirlwind and I love you just the way you are.

Have a brilliant year, babycakes, it's double digits next time.

Love Mum x

Letter to Bobbin - seven years old

Hey there Baby Cakes,

You are waking up to $2 from the tooth fairy and another year older today. In the future when you're looking back, I think the first six months of 2020 will stand out as a pivotal part of your childhood. 

But let's go back a bit first and get a few highlights. You came first in all three of your events in the ISKA tournament, sparring, sword fighting, and sumo. There were only three competitors in each event so it was a round robin style and you won each of your bouts. On paper it makes you state champion yet again, which I will never not find hilarious. You went on to absolutely nail your green belt grading, being one of only a few who knew it all on the day and didn't need the instructors giving hints or demonstrating. You're now up to your last tip on your green and will be heading for coloured tips next - I wonder if you'll be a brown belt for Christmas? Maybe the new year? You might be grading on the mats at the same time as Tricks!

Or maybe you'll take up a new sport? You've been getting in to rollerskating and rollerblading lately, after being gifted the coolest pair of pink sequined rollerskates from our friends. You will be having your first out-of-the-house birthday party at Rollerdrome on the weekend with a few of your friends and you can show off your new Rollerblades then, too.

You attended your first official concert with us as family at the ACDC Highway To Hell Tour extravaganza along Canning Highway. It was proof that bogan pride can in fact be genetically inherited. You. Did. Not. Stop! We joined in on smashing the Guinness World Record for the most air guitarists playing along at once, so don't forget to add that to your trophy cabinet - it's an air trophy so it won't take up much room. As the trucks rolled by with each new act you were on someone’s shoulders singing at the top of your lungs with your horns up, rocking out HARD. You got SO in to it that I could see flashes of your future (it was a bit scary). I thought you might get tired or bored but you did not stop the entire night, and partied all the way home too.

You started year one and it’s been a bit hit and miss. The work is easier because your last teacher saw how much you liked to be challenged and pushed you to go far. This year the assessments for IEPs only happened half way through term two and by then you were already bored and had gone backwards, and then a lil thing called Covid happened. 

We did some awesome homeschool activities, went on mini adventures (before everyone else pulled out of school - so we had Perth to ourselves!), and played a lot. You and your brother came up with the most creative games. A favourite of mine was when your house was the swing set and his was the driveway - he came over, knocked on your door and asked if you'd like to hear about god! I guess you guys overheard me singing Book of Mormon songs.

You really quite liked isolation. You wrote letters to your friends and we delivered them on bikes. You and Tricks made rainbows on the driveway with chalk like every other kid in the world, and then spotted teddies on the 168 walks around the streets we did each week to escape the house. You found great amusement in watching your grandparents learn how to videocall, and of course, the whole Nanna throwing chocolate off her balcony to you shenanigans that I wrote about in Tricky's birthday letter.

There were many other things, but they have all been dwarfed by the death of our beautiful Sprocket. You two were inseparable from the moment he noticed you as a strange new lump of flesh in the house when you were barely 24 hours old. You are driven towards all animals, but Sprocket, although technically a family dog, was yours. You were the last of us to meet him and yet he became yours, and you his.

As his pain grew you would write him endless get well soon cards and shower him in even more attention (if that was even possible). There were a few times in the last 18months that he had been unwell and we thought it might be close, so you and I had many conversations about death and dying.

We all went to the vet to ask how much longer they thought he had, and the vet said if we were thinking of it enough for us to have all gone in together, it usually meant that the time was right. I had said we were just going to talk to the vet and then all of a sudden it was happening in a few hours - I regret it. I feel like I lied to you, even though I genuinely didn't think it was something they would just do. He was in pain, and it was the right thing to do. I'm so sorry.

You used your pocket money to buy a little yellow dog charm for Sprocket and we put it on his collar. It tinkled as he walked and you were so happy to see it there. Your favourite colour, your favourite animal on your favourite pet. We set about creating and cementing in memories in the few hours we had left with our boy. You walked him around slowly as his legs were very sore. You sat and cuddled. You shook hands. You fed him a naughty final meal, his first ever cheeseburger. You laughed. You cried. You would smile and then a sadness would wash over you as you realised these were all 'lasts' and you were about to lose your shadow. Your best friend.

We had spent many hours talking about death in the months leading up to this, so you knew what was happening... yet at the same time, you didn't. You pointed out that it was good we sat where we did because when it was time to go, the car was right there and he wouldn't have far to walk on his sore legs... but he wasn't coming home, my love.

You patted and snuggled him gently as he drifted off to sleep and you told him how much you loved him. When his heart stopped you climbed on top of him, sobbing, leaving tear stains on his fur.

After a while you sat up and started shaking his head, slowly at first then more insistent, as if trying to wake him. You jiggled his legs; checked his eyelids; lifted his face to yours and examined him. When he didn't respond, you climbed back on top of him, wrapping your arms and legs all the way around and would not move.

Dad and Tricks left, and it was you, your Perth Pop and I still there for a while; stroking his soft fur and trying to commit everything about his physicality to memory. After half an hour it was time to go. As long as I live I will never forget how tightly you held on to him. As soon as I'd get one arm off you'd cling back on, not wanting to leave your best friend behind. I had to physically pry you from him as you wailed. With your legs wrapped around my waist and your arms reaching over me for him, you screamed for him as we left the room.

In the car park you had what I can only describe as a panic attack. You were clawing at your throat and gasping that you couldn't breathe. I held on to you and cried with you, sheltering you from some of the comments being made by another person there.  I showed you a photo of Sprocket on my phone and you calmed. In the tiniest voice you sang "Sprocky Sprocky ding ding". It was barely audible. Over and over again you sang it. You didn't say much else other than some yes and no answers; it felt like the only way you could communicate right then, so I just sung it back to you.

You created a shrine with pictures, cards and letters, all saying how much you love him and wish he would come back. Every single craft item you made was a dog. Every game you made up was about dogs. You made him from cardboard and brought him back to life in endless puppet shows. You made him from stacked kick shields and attached his lead. You wore his collar for weeks afterwards, sometimes even on outings, the little yellow dog charm you'd bought him tinkling as you walked. And you kept singing your soft, mournful Sprocky Sprocky ding ding song.

When his ashes arrived home you placed his collar around them and would not let them out of your sight. You fell asleep hugging them many nights and I still find them in your room sometimes. To this day he features in all your art work. You have asked me if you'll ever forget him and I can't imagine you ever will. You have a bond that not even death can break, my love. You carry him in your heart at every moment and I think you always will. Your heart has a dog-shaped hole in it, and you really want it to be filled. One day, baby girl. I promise.

You are smart and sassy, and much more sensitive than you make yourself out to be. You are as loud as can be and go one million miles an hour. You can’t stop talking, can’t sit still, and are distracted by anything and everything, particularly your own reflection! You make the silliest faces and half of our photos of you are so ridiculous it’s fantastic. You astound us daily with your vocabulary and understanding of the world around you. You are strong and resilient in the face of complicated medical issues that cause you to be in pain every day. You are confident and headstrong, kind natured and laugh-out-loud funny. You push all of my buttons and you make the world a better place. Happy seventh birthday, my pocket rocket missy moo.

Love Mum x

P.S. You're probably wearing glasses or contact lenses right now when you're reading this because with your genetics it's practically a given. They're annoying, right? I need you to know you chucked a little tanty the other week when you had an eye test and got 20/20 vision. You have worn fake glasses on and off  for years to do important work and reading, and lately you've been wearing them as much as you can. You were so envious that Tricks was getting some and you weren't!

Letter to Bobbin - six years old

Hey Smalls,

Another year around the sun! You are six years old today. Another year stronger, smarter and taller.

It's been an up and down year for you (but that's usually the way for everyone, so that's ok).

You have developed a perfectionist streak. Your mother's daughter, hey? You are very focused on doing everything right and getting upset when you spell words wrong. I adore phonetic spelling, it shows that you understand sounds and we can all figure out what you mean - plus English is a stupid language where cough, through, plough, though and hiccough don't rhyme. So we've all been working on making it OK to make mistakes. I mean, you're on an IEP (Individual Education Plan) (yeah, your mama just used her blog to brag a bit then) along with a few others in your class because you're streaks ahead of where you should be for your age. You're reading proper books and you're not even in year one, mate. You're nailing it, kiddo, we just have to always remind ourselves that we don't have to be perfect.

Martial arts has been both amazing and scary for you. You're a blue belt and very close to green. You got a black tip in class today and now you only need your red tip to graduate. It would be very tricky to get that in the next two weeks, so you'll probably grade in December. Your pushups are killer - knuckles and toes, and you're very proud of the six pack that is starting to develop. You want to be strong and you are, always volunteering to lift things (including your friends).

You participated in the ISKA tournament (International Sport Karate Association) twice. The first time you took home a first in sword fighting making you the state champion for your age group... there were only two of you in the category but it sounds good! You ended up with two trophies at that one. Then the next tournament you got first in sword fighting again - defending your title! Again, only two people in your category but back to back state champion sounds better haha! You ended up with five placings over those two tournaments and proudly stood for photos with your trophies and medals.

Earlier this year, just after Mum was having a hard time with her brain misbehaving, you got very scared of going on the mats at the dojo. You didn't want to perform your kata in front of the group and the parents. It terrified you. No amount of convincing you that it was just like the tournaments would placate you. You would get on the mats and be fine until the end when you had to perform. You refused to get up. This transitioned to refusing to get on the mats and the beginning of class. You cried a lot. It took instructors, Sempais, Senseis and even a Renshi to get you on the mats. It was the same every time for almost two whole months, refusing to get on the mats. You even hated in the in-house tournament and took a lot of convincing to get on. You did, and I was so proud of you. You didn't place, but you did your absolute best that you could on the day, and that's why I was so proud.

The struggles continued at the beginning of class, but once you were on the mats, you were completely fine and would smash out the session, trying so hard and nailing it. And you even filmed a pep talk to yourself after one lesson because you would come off the mats beaming. I started filming and it was like you were a TV presenter - straight in to it! I laughed so hard. If I'm honest, I think the tears became a habit for you. You worked hard with your instructors and you got through it. You're back on the mats now without issue... but you don't want to do the next ISKA tournament in a few weeks. And that's OK. Life can be tough and we don't always have to win... we don't even have to enter!

You continue to exert your independence. So much so that one day earlier this year you decided to walk to school. By yourself. You usually wait at the bottom of the bridge for me when we walk, but you didn't this time. You kept going. The thing is, I didn't know which way you'd gone. I looked everywhere for you. Up and down the small streets, and then the bigger street. I was so afraid I'd find you squished by a car as sometimes when you're excited you forget to look both ways. We did finally find you. One kilometre away. In your classroom. By then I was crying and you didn't know what the fuss was about, but when you saw my tears you cried too, giving me the biggest of hugs and promising you wouldn't do it again.

You love to make your own food. Whether it's sandwiches, wraps or just cutting up fruit, you insist on doing it yourself. Up until recently you were scared of being burnt on the frying pan, but you got past it and flipped your own pikelets - the look on your face when you did it was just brilliant. You were unbelievably proud. I admit to still worrying that you'll slice your hand open, but so far so good.

Crafting absolutely anything is your go-to activity. Give you paper, scissors and sticky tape (lord, so much sticky tape!) and you are happy. In fact, you got sticky tape as a birthday present and you were SO HAPPY! You make me the most random creations and they are divine. Giant posters with bits stuck on. 3D castles with entire packets of stickers over them. Then you head outside, jump about playing "Jumanji", zoom up and down the street on your bike, climb the nearest tree, flip up and down on monkeybars, and climb on the roof of any playground structure, terrifying other parents watching. I just shrug and know you'll get down safe because climbing is what you do.

Your obsession with all creatures great and small continues. You've gone off your original Spiny Leaf Insects (they are apparently too spiny to touch now so you don't), but you don't mind their babies that are small. Other than those, you pick up or pat everything you can. Catching frogs is your favourite thing to do so sometimes we go down to the local lake at night with our headlamps on and see how many we can find. You are quick at catching them, hold them for a moment then release them, usually after naming them.

You are bloody funny. You make me laugh so much with your weird antics. Whether it's quick retorts with the beginnings of sarcasm (that's my girl), a raised eyebrow, or a silly story, your sense of humour is developing rapidly. The fart jokes are still popular, as is you introducing your farts. As in you say "Here comes Frank" and then you fart loudly and laugh your head off. It's a different name every time.

That Queen Bee tendency is still there, but you have such an empathetic soul that it has balanced out to a nice assertive quality. You like to get what you want, but you also take care of your friends. And I'm not gonna lie, that's been a weight off my shoulders. Not to say you can't be a little turd sometimes when you don't get your way, but you're not mean. PHEW!

You care deeply for your family, and you express it bringing flowers, cards and any trinkets you've found as gifts. You are thoughtful, and always share willingly with Tricky, even halving your own things with him (y'all fight a lot, too, it's not all rainbows). When I was bed-bound after my ankle surgery you would come and check on me, give me a cuddle each time you walked past, and bring me food just because you were hungry and thought I might be, too.

I was trying to explain Harmony Day to you, and how racism exists and I did a really poor job of it... so for a moment there you thought it was a day to exclude your friends according to their skin colour. You were very upset at me, saying you didn't want to not talk to your friends that day because they were darker than you. A quick explanation later and you were so relieved- and I could not have been happier.  Every day we talk about what's important, and you always reply "it doesn't matter what you look like or what you do, as long as you're kind". Because we've repeated it to you daily and it's a Pavlovian response now! Ha! I hope that stays with you. Both for how you treat others and how you treat yourself.

I hope you have a brilliant year of being six, my chickadee. I promise you'll have your mermaid party soon, when I'm back walking properly. Your sass is still there, just sometimes hidden under a thin layer of self-doubt. We'll keep working on that. You'll make some amazing mistakes this year, and over your whole life, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Love Mama x