Sometimes I look at Belle and can’t believe she is so grown up. Other times she does things that make me remember that really she is still just a baby, like yesterday when I picked her up from school.
I was giving her a lift home because she had text me to tell me she had tummy ache. There was a sad face and about 27 kisses, so clearly it was desperate times. She came out clutching a pale green silky scarf like a security blanket. She got in the car and tried not to smile, wanting to give the impression of actually being very sad and in terrible pain, so that I would give her lots of sympathy and not feel like I’d come out in the car for nothing.
“How are you feeling?” I asked.
“A bit better now,” she said, doing the sad-but-brave smile again. “I took this scarf to school,” she holds it up to my face, “I sprayed it with your perfume so it would smell like you.”
“Well that’s lovely,” I said.
She looked solemn.
“Except that now it’s been in my bag all day it just smells of cheese and cucumber sandwiches.”
Belle always did like a good sandwich.