Gigi and I have conversations now. We argue. We talk. We make deals.
These are the dialogues I can only have with a two year old. One sided (for both of us) at times. Possibly ambiguous. Inarticulate. Irrational. Surprisingly and wonderfully rational (on occasion). Magical? Always. Even the rows!
Today we went to crèche. Morning runs are chaotic and nerve wracking as I dread leaving behind something important. Worry about the drop off. Betsy had tears each morning until recently. Can be harrowing for a Mam. Busy. Always, always busy.
Gigi has been emotional these last mornings and tired. The week’s ‘work’ is wrecking her out. I feel guilty. It is all part of it.
We pulled in through the green five bar gate. Drizzle outdoors. I turned around and smiled at the girls. I always do to help them be comfortable.
‘Are you going to work Mammy?.
‘ Yes Gigi. To school’.
‘ No Mammy. I GO TO school. Not you.’
‘Of course. I am teacher though. I work at a school.’
‘You are a teacher Mammy? You are a teacher?’.
I can see her work her 2 1/2 year old mind around it.
‘Are you Madam Gazelle Mammy?’.
‘Just like Madam Gazelle baby’.
We had talked. She thought about my ‘other’ life. She liked it.
These chats may seem like so little to others. For us it is amazing. We are crossing the border. Transitioning. We know the language. We are able to communicate. Everyday is special.
I had left the baby’s bag of formula and bottles at home. It got solved. We had survived. Gigi went indoors smiling, thinking about her Mammy teaching maybe.