When I started this blog, I thought that it would act as a sort of journal which we could look back on when Frida is older. I’ve never been much good at keeping a diary, but I thought the public nature of a blog might shame me into maintaining it semi-regularly.
This morning was certainly a morning for the journal.
We have a the brilliant Morden Hall Park a 15 minute drive away; part National Trust, part park, leading on to a city farm, it’s such a great place for children. There is a stream running through the rose garden for paddling. Yes, it’s as idyllic as it sounds!
We brought her scooter and she had a great time scooting towards all of the many fine dogs who were out enjoying the sun, shouting “dog” at them. One licked her. She was thrilled.
She is absolutely obsessed with ducks at the moment and never passes up an opportunity to go and look at them. Her ability to spot ducks, dogs, birds, cats and babies (“bubba”) a mile away is terrifyingly good.
We took her for her first ever paddle and she absolutely loved it. I mean, loved it. At first she wanted to stand holding our hands but quickly she decided that was not good enough and crouched down in the water grabbing handfuls of muddy gravel (“stone! stone!”), occasionally trying to put some in her mouth.
She had such a wonderful time crawling and splashing and enjoying the cold water and the hot sunshine. Equally wonderful for her was getting dry, standing there gloriously naked in the dappled shade whilst blossom fell in her, chewing a breadstick and pointing out all the dogs she could see to us (“dog! dog dere! dere! bird!”)
These are the sorts of days I daydreamed about before we had Frida, before I was even pregnant.
I don’t ever want to forget how her voice sounds, or how her little kisses feel, or the weight of her sleeping body as I carry her in from the car and lay her down to sleep.
I don’t ever want to forget that, in moments like these, life is absolutely perfect.