When you got home from the cabin, you sat up on the coffee table to show me where you’d hurt your knee. You told me it was a bruise.
“I can’t see any bruises,” I said, “but you have a little scratch here.”
“Yes. But when I go to sleep, I will wake up and it will be hilled.”
“That’s right,” I said. “When you rest your body, your scratch will start to heal and it will be gone in a couple of days.”
“And then I won’t have a scrat anymore on my knee.”
“I can’t have a shower while my leg hurts.”
This evening you called out to your daddy to come and look. He came in from the kitchen to find you standing on your head on the rocking chair. You said, “This is your present, Daddy.”
Your dad took you to the cabin for the weekend so I could have some downtime. I spent five hours cleaning the house, and another couple mowing the lawn. But that’s not the point. You and your dad had a great time with Farmor down at the cabin. You played in your paddling pool, and relaxed on the deck:
We were walking home from barnehage and you said, “Mummy, I was a superhero when I…when I was a superhero. And I will be a superhero and I will rescue you!”
I said, “Will you? Thanks!”
“Yes! I will put on my superhero coat on my back.”
“You mean your cape?”
“Yes, my superhero coach, and I will fly up into the sky and I will rescue everyone.”
Tonight when I was putting you to bed, you asked me if I was still sad about Great Papa. I said yes. You said:
“It’s okay, Â Mummy. It’s okay that you’re sad about Great Papa diving. Because he will go to sleep and when he wakes up you can be happy again.”
Today your barnehage was closed for a planning day, and your daddy is still away working up north, so it was just you and me this morning. We played “muddy muddy” on the spare quilt on the floor in the den (which involves bunching up the quilt into a pile, flopping down on top of it, then wriggling around while shouting Muddy Muddy Muddy!), “sharky boat” on our bed (you saved me from the sharks – thanks!) and then we talked to Grandma on Skype. Auntie Amy dropped in to Grandma’s house towards the end of the call, and so you talked to Kevin for a bit, delighting in telling him at least nine times that you saw Sushi licking her bottom.
Then we went to your room to get dressed, and while we were playing around, me lying on my stomach on the floor, you jumped on my back and yelled, Get up, Pig! I wasn’t very impressed, even though I know you didn’t mean it the way older people mean it. It’s my own fault, I suppose, for telling you earlier in the week what a piggy back ride is.
Then, about five minutes ago, Farfar came to pick you up to take you to feed the ducks, so I can get some work done. You gave me such a look of betrayal when you saw him, because you knew it meant he was here to take you away. You always have a wonderful time there, but you find leaving home, especially when I’m here, really hard. It’s both lovely and heartbreaking at the same time. As the car pulled away, you looked out the window at me with your huge puppy eyes and trembling chin. I smiled, blew you a kiss and waved, calling out, I’ll see you soon! I love you!
Then I came inside, shut the door, and cried. I miss you already.
Your daddy is away for a week in Tromsø, so this evening we had dinner together and then went downstairs for your bath. First we played hide and seek with a little spongey car toy Grandma brought over from Australia, then you told me a story:
This isn’t the bath, you said, it’s a space boat. And it’s very wavy here. In space. And I am the knight, and you are the princess. Oh no, Princess Mummy! What shall we do? There are lots and lots of dragons coming. I’ll put on my knight suit, and you put on your knight hat and eye hat, and take your sword.
What shall we do with the swords? I asked.
We will PUSH the dragons until they run away. Go!