The Daphne Tree

OMG the kid is so into her clothes right now. I'm afraid she may be following in her mum's quirky (read: odd) style footsteps. Ever since dressing in yellow leggings and a yellow t-shirt and declaring "I'm a banana", that has been the go-to outfit for Daphne Duck. If there is green in the equation it's obviously "some apple". However, somewhat encouraged by her mother, Daph has also adopted stripes as her uniform whole-heartedly. Most of the time I am really happy for her to, erm, express herself with colourful outfits, and you may have even caught me googling "yellow shoes" last week, just so she could complete the banana look, BUT... there are times when I have to suggest she has a word with FiFi. You see, FiFi loves her rainbow leggings, and she loves her rainbow top. She loves her rainbow socks, and she loves all rainbow things generally. BUT, there comes a time, early in the morning, when FiFi has had a bit of special blueberry jui...

At some point, roughly 20 minutes into hairdrying FiFi the soft doll (who had earlier been puked on) I laughed. This is just not something I realised I would be doing with my life. Especially more than once.And all of a sudden it was hilarious. Fifi is the perfect size to fit into the crook of a toddler arm, and therefore she NEVER leaves the toddler arm. Sometimes she is briefly forgotten, but then she is remembered in a wave of panic and yelling. WE NEED FIFI. FiFi is the 4th person at dinner. She tests most experiences for the child. FiFi go down slide! FiFi go on swing! Ahh swing safe. FiFi must be in crook of arm while we are reading books. FiFi sits on the edge of the table "watching" while we are cooking. She always wants one of whatever we make. FiFi sure is fucking annoying sometimes. She sneaks into all photos of my cute cherub and has taken over the role of the dummy in photos, you know, that embarassing thing that shows up in photos and proves what a shit pa...

It occurred to me last night, as I turned away to giggle silently, watching Daphne lick her DVDs, that my attitude as a mum has changed significantly. When she was a tiny newborn, my approach was mostly "I'm terrified, how do I keep this alive?". Every little thing was a threat to her little delicate life, and the world entirely revolved around her. Doctor on speed dial. Phrases to describe our life in the first year were: "Better to be safe than sorry" "You can't be too careful" "Why risk anything" "Fear the worst" Into the second year, we chilled out slightly, she could escape the cat (although actively chose to engage in combat) and didn't appear to be allergic to anything. She'd had a few falls, a few illnesses, and bounced back, sometimes literally. Attitudes changed to: "She has to learn for herself" "A bit of dirt won't hurt" " Let's see how she is in the morning...