Lucy. Our Baby Lucy.
You are a little ray of sunshine. Your obsession with the colour yellow and ice cream is iron clad. You are only just 3 and yet you know your mind better than most of the adults I know.
You do NOT mess around.
Unicorn sprinkles are your favourite. And you committed to wearing a swimsuit with tights for a week because it had an ice cream print on it.
You are my last baby and I’ve become pretty attached to having you with me, always. Like a little security blanket I can snuggle and take on dates. For the last 8 years I haven’t been alone and I’m not ready at all for you to leave, but you are. You started nursery this week and I’ve never known anyone to be so ready for something, you are deeply annoyed that they have put you in the blue group and not yellow but you’ll adapt and own it, like you always do. You rushed in the door on your first day, taking your jacket off as you ran, threw it on the shelf and off you went.
You didn’t look back, you didn’t say goodbye and you didn’t search for me. You just went. And I’ve realised at that exact moment that you can be so proud and heartbroken all at the same time. I will NOT cry.
Our Tuesday ice cream dates of cherry picking little cafes around Edinburgh are no longer a thing and I’m glad I got to spend so much time with you, but you’ve been ready for this for a while. Me? Not so much. I’m excited to watch you grow and flourish even more than you have in the last few years at home. And you get to go and do it without me, like your siblings did before you. And I’m slowly becoming needed less and less. The silence at home is overwhelming and I already miss just walking past and squishing your little face on my way to make a cup of tea.
You’ve got this. You’ve SO got this.
I promise not to cry x
*I totally cried*