When you love to colour.

Remember in the ‘Sex and the City’ movie, the girls were sitting around at breakfast and had to replace the word ‘sex’ with ‘colour’ because Charlotte’s 3 year old was sitting at the table with them? She is quietly colouring (as all good child stars should) and the girl’s are having the most inappropriate chatter. It’s not total reality but it’s funny and maybe one or two of us can relate to a topic or two discussed, or maybe not. If you forget what happened, have a giggle here.

I remember watching this scene and wondering when my daughter would fall in love with colouring. I had hoped that I too could sit around with the girls at breakfast with a quiet child, contently colouring. Sadly, I don’t live in a Hollywood movie and I had almost given up hope that this would be something that would occupy my daughter’s time, even for just short bursts…until a few weeks ago. All of a sudden Miss Mimi’s colouring in went to scribbling all over the page to careful, try-really-hard-to-stay-within-the-lines, colouring. My little girl is growing up and now we can restaurant as a family in gorgeous bliss. My husband and I can order, talk and wait for our food to arrive with a peaceful girl who colours and joins in on our conversation. It’s a new stage of her development and we are enjoying every moment.

All this makes me remember a time in my childhood. I was around 7 or 8 and I vividly recall my mum taking me to the local shopping centre. She ran some errands, we had lunch and an ice-cream and we laughed and enjoyed each other’s company, all without me complaining or whinging. There was no rushing and it was just us. She listened to me, she laughed with me. At the end of that magical few hours she thanked me, she told me she had loved every moment and was excited at the thought that we could do more grown up girly things together. I had reached my new stage in life. I will never forget that moment. I felt so proud that I was being treated like a grown up. A few years after that however, she took me to a hamburger joint to tell me all about the ‘birds and the bees’ and it was the worst hour of my life. I couldn’t eat my burger and I wished the ground could have opened up and swallowed me whole, I desperately wanted to be 4 again. Take the good with the bad I guess. At least she didn’t confuse me by replacing the keywords with something kindergarten-ish or coming up with some sort of analogy such as colouring in the lines…

PS: Love you Mum. xx

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