Sure, I grew her, she emerged from my body, I’ve been puked, pooped and peed on by her…but THIS is the grossest part of parenting. The bit where they try to blow up their own balloon for a solid 20 minutes, then admit defeat and say “you blow it up for me, Mama”. *shudder* Even the cat can’t watch.
Amy came running toward me, the sun shining behind her, golden curls fanning out in the breeze, sturdy little legs carrying her as fast as they could, a laugh bubbling out from her rosebud lips, a brilliant smile lighting up her face and crinkling her eyes. It was exactly the sort of moment I’d imagined when the nurse handed me my tiny newborn daughter three-and-a-half years ago. She flung herself into my arms…and said “hey Mum! Smell my fingers! I’ve been touching sheep poo”. Oh.