Two weeks ago you turned eight.
Eight years ago you made us parents.
For eight years you have made us smile, made us laugh, made us worry, driven us crazy, and most importantly made us proud. Every single day we are so proud of you.
Last week you done something silly. You filled up a bowl on the table with your juice, right to the rim, just so that it would spill. Looking back now its really not a big deal, but I got cross, I told you off for being silly and I sent you to your bedroom. The very next day I bumped into your teacher outside the school gates. Without me even mentioning you he couldn’t wait to sing your praises.
He told me what a wonderful young man you are in class, how kind you are. How keen to learn and involved you are in lessons. He told me that you have so many friends, that you are caring and fun to be around. I thanked him for his kind words, and told him you had been driving me crazy at home.
When I came away from your teacher I felt so proud I could have burst. I couldn’t wait to phone Daddy and tell him how proud I was. As soon as I saw you after school we had the biggest hug and I told you how proud I am.
You see even when I am cross because you have done something silly. Even when you are going out of your way to wind up Matilda and Arthur. Even when you whine a hundred times for something that I have told you no to. You still make me proud. Proud of the little boy you are. Proud to be your mum.
Suddenly you are eight years old, and you are growing up far too quickly. You are already 4 foot 3 inches tall. You seem to have grown over night. The things you like are changing, you no longer want to play with the toys that you used to play with. If its not Lego or creating and experimenting you don’t want to know.
We have started to stagger your bedtimes so you now stay up later than Matilda and Arthur, just so that we can have some time together. And I am really enjoying your company, just 20 minutes to sit and chat about our day, or just snuggle up watching the TV.
I know that often I’m much more stressy Mummy than super Mummy. And I know that you are becoming far too cool to use the term ‘Mummy’ but I’m clinging onto it. But even when I am stressy Mummy, I want you to know there is no where I would rather be, nothing I would rather be doing then being Mummy to you Matilda and Arthur.
Love you lots my little Haribo.
Love Mummy xxx
A few photos of my very camera shy Harry.