I would like to publicly apologise to anyone who becomes emotionally involved with my daughter when she grows up.
Sure she’s only 4 but boy does she already know how to manipulate those around her.
We’ve already had:
I can’t kiss you because I’ve run out
No hugs left daddy, mummy had the last one
I WILL kiss you, just not right now as I’m saving it
I can’t just give kisses out all the time you know. I’ve got to save at least some of them
If I kiss you all the time they won’t be special any more.
I feel like I should be drawing up some form of disclaimer now so any future boyfriend knows that it’s not actually my fault and if you take Mia on, well, on your own head be it.
Last night I tucked her into bed; we read a story together (Snow White – she acted a little bit scared, I acted all protective); we chatted, we hugged, I told her how I wanted to munch her right up . . . you know the scene.
I feel a warm glow light me up from the inside as I kiss her on the head, turn and walk to her bedroom door.
These moments are few and far between from a little girl who’s FAR TOO BUSY for munching.
“I really really love you mummy,” she says as I start to walk away.
I turn around and blow a kiss.
I’m just heading out of the doorway, pulling the door behind me and she adds: “But sometimes I hate you.” Giggle. “Not all the time. In fact probably never.”