I couldn’t resist recounting this particular adventure. I had planned to write about it earlier in the week, but life somehow got in the way. In the spirit of recording the memories before they vacate, here it is - enjoy.
Picture the scene - 7pm on Valentines night, dinner is finished with, I’m elbow deep in washing up water in the kitchen, and the younger children are in the shower together, doing whatever it is that young girls do so noisily and raucously in the shower. Parallels could probably be drawn with an early 1980s television cartoon called “Captain Caveman”.
There is a knock at the door.
While grabbing the tea towel to dry my hands, W marches from the living room en-route to the front door, asking anybody who might be listening “I wonder who that is, at this time of the evening?”
I hear a muffled conversation, laughter, apologies, more laughter, and the “awwwww” sound that Mums make when little ones do something unbearably cute.
I carry on with the washing up.
Goodbyes are said, the door closes with a thud, and W tiptoes into the kitchen carrying a home made looking envelope, and a small white paper bag with a heart shaped piece of paper stuck to it. She is also wearing the silliest, girliest grin on her face.
“Look!”
Inside the white paper bag is a small red cake with hearts stuck all over it. It is for Little Miss 6. Her first Valentine. The first Valentine any of our children have received. The beginning of something we have been expecting since she came into our lives.
You see, there’s something about Little Miss Six. We don’t know what it is. She’s just… different than other girls. With a tilt of her head and an innocent smile, she completely undoes attempts to rebuke her for increasingly clever shenanigans. At school her friends are always boys - boys who look out for her, help her, and tell stories to their parents about her (we know, they tell us). Only she has no idea about these infatuations - she seems completely unaware of the effect she has.
Worryingly (and without any bias at all), we can already see that while at this age she is unaware, she is also the prettiest, is going to be the tallest, and all clothes look wonderful on her. Other girls are going to hate her.
Getting back to our story, W tiptoed into the shower and met Miss Six just as she stepped out.
“Who at door?”
“Look!”
I didn’t see the next few moments - I only heard them. Apparently Miss Six did a naked fist pump in the middle of the bathroom. The penny then fell with Miss Eight. The immediate fury in her voice almost shook the windows.
“WHY DOESN’T ANYBODY SEND ME CARDS AND CAKES!”
As quickly as the fury exploded, it passed, amid plaintive murmurs of “it’s not fair” as she wrapped herself in a towel and headed upstairs in search of clean pyjamas.
I couldn’t help recounting Dumbledore’s words in my head as I continued washing up;
“Oh to be young, and to feel love’s keen sting”