A letter to my daughter for her birthday

babyccino

Letter to my daughter: Sarah and her babyccino

A letter to my daughter on the eve of her third birthday: To my dearest Sarah. My daughter. My baby. My best friend. Happy birthday.
Tomorrow you turn three. I just wanted to write you a letter on the eve of the big day. This will probably surface online when you’re old enough to read and I hope it will be nice for you to see. I did one for your brother too.

So, what can I say about you? Three years ago you landed in to my arms in a hurry in The Coombe. No fuss, no drama and you’re still the same today.
You simply slotted in. Like you had always been here. Easy going but full of life and full of love. From where you got it, I don’t know. The stereotypical girl thing, that is. Sensitive . Sweet. Delicate.

Mammy’s girl. Or Mummy’s as you call me. I love it and I love you. More than you will ever, ever know.

Letter to my daughter

Letter to my daughter: Sarah, my best friend

You may only be three but you truly are my best friend. Great company. Funny and kind. A tonic on the bad days and a great companion always.

You’re beautiful; inside and out. People stop to see your long hair. It’s like you’ve just been to the salon for a blowdry, they say. You’ve never been though. The blonde bits on the end are the last bit of baby that remains. I can’t bring myself to get it trimmed.

You’re wise beyond your years. You have been for a long time now. Little Miss Chatterbox, we call you.

Indeed you never stop chatting. That’s why you’re such good company. Your specialist subject is Peppa Pig, all her friends and what they get up to. Just tonight I learned of Peppa’s friend Molly Mole. I never even knew she existed until bedtime tonight.

You’re content as can be. Just like me, you love your own company. I often find you in your room with the door closed and you inside playing with your doll’s house. You make them tea. You set the table and you plonk them down. In your own little world and you don’t like to be disturbed. Happy as a Peppa Pig in muck!
Babyccinos come in a close second to Peppa. You are utterly obsessed with these foamed milk creations. I love when just you and me go out for one. A Babyccino and a chat; there’s no better way to spend an afternoon. Costa do the best ones according to you! You wear the milk mustache well, I must say. But then I think you wear everything well!

On Saturdays you go to ballet class in Naas. Your idea. You love ballet and you love to practice it at home. Perhaps you love your ballet class so much because she always go for a Babyccino afterwards. I love it too. It’s our one on one time at the weekend so long may it continue.

Indeed you have a love for music it seems. You make me sing you to sleep every night. You don’t request lullabys though. Folk classics are more your thing. Well, just one folk classic. Me and Bobby McGee. That’s all you ever want. The Janis Joplin version. You have great taste, my little girl. Really great taste! It’s my favourite tune too and I love singing it for you. You’re getting rather good at signing it too. We just have to iron out a small few mix ups and you’ll be flying. It’s a ‘dirty red bandana’ by the way, not a ‘dirty red banana’!

letter to my daughter

Letter to my daughter: My little princess

Every single day you tell me you love me. Over and over again. I get it the most at bedtime, as you throw your arms around my neck. “I love you mummy,” you say in your squeaky little girly voice. I just love it. I just love you. I love every last little thing about you.

You’re my last baby. You insist you are not a baby but you’ll always be my baby. You will always be my little girl. My ballet loving, Bobby McGee singing baby. As Phil Lynott once said, ‘When you came in my life you changed my world, my Sarah’. Always know that.

I am so happy to be your mummy. I am so proud to be your mummy. I sometimes can’t believe I’m your mummy. You make me happy. So so happy. End of story.

x

Mummy

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