Miss M has a new pushchair.

Ok, I know, not very interesting in itself, but when you’re 2 anything new is extremely significant in your small world.

M’s new pushchair is pink.

This means that she thinks it is beautiful.

She told me so,

M:  “My puss-chair is bootiful mummy. ”

Me:  “Is it babe?  That’s nice.”

M:  “It bootiful, like M’s hair.  M’s hair is bootiful.”

Me:  “It is sweetie.  M is beautiful.  You’re my beautiful baby.”

M:  “My not a baby.  My a big girl.”

Me:  “You are a big girl sweetie.  And you’ve got a new big girl’s pushchair haven’t you.”

M nods and looks all proud and satisfied and fulfilled.

And it makes my heart ache.

She has a new pushchair and she is completely happy. And I want it to last.

Soon, a new ‘functional item,’ however pretty and pink, will no longer have this affect on her life.

The big wide world will offer so much more and she’ll want, want, want so much more.

And it makes me feel a little sad.

It’s not that I want to hold her back, not let her grow up, or keep her small and perfect and just for me.

The world is an amazing place and I want her to feel excited by the possibilities.

But right here, right now, she is completely happy.

In a few years time, when school, homework, relationships beyond the realm of family and close friends, people who are not always kind, situations that are not always fair burst into her life, I know she will not be so contented with small things. 

There will be so many bigger things to think about.

Then I think of Miss E aged 6.

She is growing up into a wonderful and complex little person.  She possesses and often practises the whole range of emotions, sometimes to extremes.  

At times she drives us mad, but I know if she can’t practise them now, then there’s no way she will be able to handle her emotions in the future, when she’s an adult and your meant to be able to do this stuff.

E will not be excited about M’s new pushchair.

She is mesmerised by the world.  She wants everything that is so obviously aimed at her.  

She earns money by tidying all her and her sister’s toys away each night.

When we go shopping you can see it worrying away in her pocket. 

‘What shall I get?’

‘What can I get?’

And she’ll say,

E: “Mummy I can’t choose.  There’s so much and I like it all.’

But then I think,

Wait…

E loves buttons.

If you give her a new button her face lights up. 

She chats excitedly about where it might have come from and who might have worn it.

She admires her collection like it is a gilded chest of precious stones, each one priceless and unique. 

She learns their shades, jade, turquoise, amber. 

She sometimes lays them out on the table and creates beautiful pictures and patterns.

Two weeks ago when she made her First Holy Communion we had a family party.

At one point she disappeared upstairs.

When she reappeared my 63 year old Auntie came up to me.

Auntie M:  “E just took me up to see her room and she showed me her button collection.”

Me:  “Really?  She does love buttons.  It’s funny because I used to as well.”

Auntie M:  “She’s got some lovely ones.  I’ve promised I’ll find her some more as I’ve got loads at home.”

Me:  “Ahh thanks M, she’ll love that.”

M smiles and I realise that ‘look’ was something of the one M had today when she sat proudly in her new pushchair.

Just a moment of satisfaction.  Simple and uncomplicated.  A moment of happiness.

And I realise the happiness is still out there in the simple things.  It probably just takes us a bit longer to find it.