We Made Them Out of Fluff

Parenting is quite hard, and yet at the same time it simply flows along, from day to day.

You don't need to work hard to let the days pass. They just do. Although sometimes they do feel like very hard work.

Before you know it, you have fully formed people, who interact with each other without recourse to you, except the occasional yell of "Mummy!" when they can't reconcile their own issues.

They are endlessly fascinating to eavesdrop upon, even if eavesdropping is a behaviour one shouldn't role-model for one's children.

One of the most special  parts of being a parent of siblings is when they stop needing you for their interactions with each other. For many years, their conversations have been moderated, and facilitated, and to some extent, created, by one or other parents.

Then, that starts to stop. They start to engage each other, like proper little humans, in proper little conversations.

Occasionally, although I know I shouldn't really, I hover on my way past their bedroom door and have a sneaky listen. Their conversations are so sweet, and a little odd. Here's a sample that I observed tonight:

Lori: Where do you do a World War?
Josie: All around the world.
Lori: No, I think you'd just do it in random places
Josie: No, you wouldn't do it in random places, I don't think. What kind of random places?
Lori: Just in the middle of the road. Places like that.
Josie: I don't think so. I think in fields maybe.
Lori: I will ask Mummy.
Josie and Lori: Muuuuuuummy!

Aaaaaaand I'm back. I'm glad they're growing into proper little people, but it is also quite nice to still be needed. Moments like that make all the hard stuff worthwhile.

And at moments like that, Andrew and I turn to each with these words: We made them out of fluff. It's the kind of thing that the child of a teddy bear would say, I suppose.

But we did: adorably sweet, lovely fluff. As cute as can be to us, their parents, the ones that will always love them more than they can possibly imagine.

"Out of fluff" we will say to each other, knowingly, when we are old, and they have their own children, their first job, or a broken heart.