Phoebe was at our house today. I wish my eyes could perform like a video camera so that I might have shared with you the moment when she lost her footing and fell backwards in our dining room. She was holding her favourite cuddly toy Monty the Sloth at the time and perhaps she was not fully concentrating. Don't worry - she did not bang her head or anything like that. When she stumbled backwards her arse ended up in the wastepaper basket and all of a sudden her little legs were pointing to the ceiling.
The surprised look on her face was precious and Shirley and I could not help laughing before I pulled her out of the wastepaper basket. There were no tears. She just carried on with her happy day that had earlier involved a visit to the children's section of The Central Library and another to "Waterstones" bookshop where Grandma bought Phoebe copies of "The Gruffalo's Child" and "Stick Man" both by Julia Donaldson.
She's upstairs as I write - sound asleep in her cot. Her mum was in London again today so it seemed easiest if we hung on to the little darling overnight. We are so happy to live close by and to be a big part of Phoebe's life.
It's a privilege... but sometimes when I look at her I can't help contemplating my own mortality and the fact that I won't be around to see her when she enters adulthood. I will become just a hazy memory at the back of her mind - an old man in old photographs - her Grandpa. Shame he's not with us any more. Such is the chain of life.
All we can do is to love her the best we can, teach her, listen to her, laugh with her and help her to grow. There will be many more wastepaper baskets to tumble into arse first as the years go by. I am speaking from experience.
from Yorkshire Pudding https://ift.tt/ayi5Trf
