“A child is a curly, dimpled lunatic.”
― Ralph Waldo Emerson
It was cold, wet and grey but none of this really stops a three year old wanting to run around outside.
One thing Maia particularly enjoys is hunting for wriggly worms (my Aunty’s idea, not mine, I simply stood there trying to appear un-phased as she waved the poor defenceless creature in my direction).
“We have no issues with worms do we Mummy?” – My Aunty would re-assure Maia.
“Nope, I’m all good, I’m just guna go stand over here, Maia darling don’t stretch it.”
I was never really into bugs or creepy crawlies as a child, so my Mum decided she’d do things differently with Maia, and encouraged her to seek out all things slimy.
“It’ll be good if she’s not afraid to get her hands dirty, you were such a wuss when it came to insects..”
We then kicked the football around and sang Frozen songs before she proceeded to dance around in circles with her eyes shut, repeatedly running into me, laughing and shouting “I just ran into my MOTHER!!”.