Little: I’m your Baba. I came out of your tummy and you called me Little.

Me: Oh Babs. Remember, you came out of birth mummy’s tummy. She called you Little.

Little: Grr. What about my big brother and sister, are they adocted too?

Me: No sweetheart, they stay with their birth daddy.

Little: Grr. Do they have a real daddy though?

Me: They stay with him, with their birth daddy.

Little: NO! I don’t mean that. I mean a real daddy , like the daddy I have just now. My daddy.*

She was so very cross that I’d misunderstood her.

My two have very differing opinions on what ‘real’ is. Big is very clear that I’m not her ‘real’ mum. That she doesn’t want to live here and that she doesn’t have to do anything I ask because I’m not her ‘real’ mum.

The dictionary defines real as: Actually existing as a thing or occurring in fact.

We’re all real in this story, we all occur and exist. I’m sure that the word will be used in many ways over the years. Little’s understanding or thinking of it may change, it may not. Big’s understanding of it or thinking of it may change, it may not. But we’re all real.

The best bits

We went up our local ‘mountain’ (340m) on New Years Day. The girls were amazing. They kept going and were really pleased to get to the top. Big finds descending really hard but she didn’t stop and did so well.

We watched Ballerina this holiday (not the most well chosen film.) Little has shown everybody the ‘sixteen’ positions and has not stopped dancing since.

*I should point out that I have not been able to have one of these conversations with Little without being in tears. Her ability to voice everything astounds me.

** Some of you may have read a blog by Al Coates (MBE) a few weeks ago and might be thinking that this post sounds familiar. This is simply a matter of coincidental timing and not an attempt at plagiarism.


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