Yesterday was a good day. A very good day.
It rained as if often does here, but that didn't matter. I spent the day lazing around with Toots. We played in the garden with the cat and checked on the fruit and vegetables. We baked flapjacks and ate them still warm and falling to pieces from the pan.
We put on our wellies and played on the swing in the rain and we laughed.
Later, when she was truly exhausted, we curled up together wrapped in a blanket. I read her a story and ran my fingertips along the length of each of each of her curls as she fell asleep with her little warm head resting against my chest and her little fingers curled around the blanket.
She woke and we ate and talked and joked and sang. We put on music and played games and when her dad arrived home, she ran to him, hugged him and smiled.
They laughed and talked in the living room while I prepared the dinner and I was happy.
I want every day to be just like yesterday, but of course that can't happen and it won't happen. We'll have bad days as every family does.
Days of more negative than positive. Days when I say No more often that Yes. Days when there are tantrums and crying and anger.
However in general we have more good days than bad and we're happy.
I hope that when Toots is older she remembers the good times. I don't really mind if she remembers the bad too, but I hope that she remembers them in context. That she remembers that it wasn't always bad.
I hope that she doesn't inherit my occasional bouts of pessimism.
The fact that I can meet a hundred lovely people and have it ruined by one asshole.
That I can try to help people and succeed with the majority only to fail with one person and end up wishing I hadn't bothered myself in the first place.
I have a lot of happy memories from my own childhood, but they're often clouded by the unhappy ones which are admittedly few and far between. So why do they stick so clearly in my mind.
I just hope that Toots always sees the class half full perspective.