Dear Mummy,

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sam abridged 2Can you believe I am almost one? Time flies, apparently. I wouldn’t know, having no concept of clichéd expressions or indeed of flying and time, but I heard you say it to the lady in the Post Office and it sounded nice.

I feel so grown up compared to 12 months ago and I’m sure you would say the same. OK, I heard you say that in the Post Office too, but I had thought it first. When I was born, I didn’t really know my front from my back and if I’m being honest, Mummy, I wasn’t all that keen on things. It was too loud, it was too bright, and I felt hungry and grouchy a lot of the time, as I’m sure you well remember.


Also, don’t take this the wrong way, although I loved being with you and Daddy and sleeping snug against one of you, I kind of got the sense you didn’t really know what you were doing half the time. For example, I would do my screaming song when I was tired and you often gave me milk instead. Whilst this was nice, and never being one to look a gift horse in the mouth, always gladly received; it wasn’t actually what I needed. Then once, when I did my screaming song, but this time for milk, I heard you tell Daddy I couldn’t possibly be hungry again as I’d been feeding all evening, you needed a break and please would he do the swinging rock dance to get me to sleep? Obviously, I made sure this only happened that one time by doing an extra-long screaming song, with full lung choir and an encore after the feed, just to be sure I’d got through to you. After that, you offered me milk pretty much constantly. This is when I think you began to find your feet, Mummy.

As the weeks rushed by, we began having more fun together.  I got used to the brightness, and you got used to my demands to keep everything completely silent if you had a hope in hell of getting me to sleep for more than 20 minutes.  I know you and Daddy had every intention of living life as normal once I came along and letting me sleep with background noise but I quickly and helpfully explained that this simply wasn’t acceptable.  Whispering was the new talking, sub-titles the new entertainment and remember Mummy and Daddy, don’t sneeze!

Spring turned to summer and you and Daddy spoke of our first family holiday and a nerve-wracking road trip. Off we trotted to the seaside for sunny days out, walks on the beach and a mega exploding nappy at the Fish and Chip Café. I’m sorry about that by the way, and I hope we can move past it. It wasn’t the nicest experience for me either if you must know.

Mummy, I must tell you, I have such a nice time with you and Daddy, though I know I don’t always act like it. I really love our little outings and the games we play, not to mention the very useful things you are teaching me. According to Daddy, High Fives are a bit 90s but you and I know we both look pretty cool and he’s the one missing out.

I’m also really pleased we have the same taste in books, such a lucky coincidence. I’m glad you are a fellow fan of repetition and never get bored of ‘That’s not my Lion.’ Altogether now, ‘ROOAARRR.’

I know you have said to Daddy that you miss all the gigs you and he used to go to, jumping around to your favourite songs and having a ‘good drink’. Are there any bad drinks, Mummy? Anyway, I just wanted to point out that you’re really not missing out at all. I bet you dance and jump around far more now than you did before I came along. In fact, only yesterday we had such a fun time jigging to my music drum for 45 minutes, I didn’t tire of it at all and I’m sure you felt the same.  Plus, you have your extensive repertoire of ‘Silly Meal Time Songs’ that you seem to think distract me enough to eat broccoli. You’re wrong, of course, but I really do enjoy them, especially when they involve the art of movement. FYI Mummy, the Bum Bum dance is my all-time favourite; you have a real talent for lyrics and music! And please remember, I think you’re really graceful, no matter what Daddy says.

Speaking of being an embarrassment (Daddy’s words,) I wanted to talk with you about these food throwing incidents.  I know it’s messy, and I know it’s embarrassing – especially at Harvester, and I know you probably don’t enjoy scrubbing avocado out of my hair after every meal time; but, Mummy, it is so much FUN. Why don’t you join me? Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it! I know you will say it is demoralising and frustrating (whatever that means) when it’s food you’ve forced yourself to cook from scratch for me. Well I’ve got the solution right here for you – don’t bother. Seriously, I’m a baby, I couldn’t give a cat’s tail what I eat so long as it tastes reasonable. I’m no food snob, Mummy so relax, I’d be happy with a fish finger and a biscuit every day… You’re welcome.

So back to my favourite subjects: Firstly, me and secondly, you. Daddy is way up there too of course, and as I don’t like to leave him out, plus I’m rather bored by you come 6 PM,I always make a big fuss of him and ignore you whenever he’s around. Don’t take it personally, there’s a lot of weight on my shoulders in handling all this attention you know. I am but one man.

How do you manage to make me so happy, Mummy? You’re like a white witch! If I wasn’t completely egocentric – it’s a means of survival by the way; I might observe that a lot of the time, I get to do what I want to do and you no longer get to do much of the stuff you used to. On the flip side however, let’s be honest, you do have a lot more sitting around and gossiping time thanks to me. And, no judgment, but you sure can put away the biscuits. Plus, I know I’m a good get out card for boring things like book club and that netball team you never really wanted to join in the first place. You can finally stop pretending to enjoy physical activity, hooray!

But anyway, I really do love every day with you Mummy. The giant soft play adventures, the park with moving seats that make my tummy go ‘swish’, the aforementioned food throwing (please try it!) and the sleepy cuddles with my warm bottle of milk in your arms. I think that might just be my favourite, actually. So don’t ever worry about your tired eyes, your ratty hair, or snot stained jumper (again, I’m sorry!) To me, you are perfect, and I feel like I could screech with happiness every time I see you. And I often do, which I think you enjoy, even at 3.45 AM when we apparently should all be sleeping – says who?

So rest (Haha!) safe in the knowledge that it will be another three years or so before I start to be embarrassed by you. I’ll be sure to let you know when.

That’s all for now, I know you’re busy and my birthday cake won’t make itself, Mummy!

Lots of love, cuddles and bites that are really kisses,

Sam x x x x x

Ok, some of this may be wishful thinking on my part – I have always fancied being a white witch! What would your little nappies tell you if they could?


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8 thoughts on “Dear Mummy,

    • Thanks Lisa. I like to think we do, I’m sure that is what they say to us if they could, and not, ‘Give me some cake!’

  1. Wonderful post Yvette! I can’t believe he’s going to be one already! Hope that cake’s coming on well 🙂

  2. How cute is this post! I just love it and lord knows what mine would say to me if they could, haha! Thanks so much for linking up with #MMWBH xx

    • Thanks so much! Ha ha, yes I have no doubt since writing this his attitude has changed already somewhat (think strops, tantrums and a whole lot of yelling and grunting at me). Not so sure he sees me as a white witch these days!! Thanks for taking the time to read and comment, and for hosting a great MMWBH x

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