We walked into daycare, and Fainjin looked up. He was playing with a toy truck, but came running over “Mummy!”, wreathed in smiles. “Daddy’s here too!” he informed me, as if we hadn’t just arrived together. He gave me a hug, then raced over to his Dad. I could hear an excited little voice a little further along, and found Babess outside with a couple of her teachers. She had heard us, and was beaming and waving, “Mummy Mummy Mummy!” She had a little bag in one hand, and a block in the other, and was trying to decide whether to put them down and wave properly, or hold onto them. The result was a curious bobbing up and down as she went to put them down, decided against it and waved them around, then went to put them down again, rather like a wobbly one-baby Mexican wave.
To add to the festive air, she was covered in purple paint. Her arms were purple to the elbows, and she had large purple slashes across her t-shirt and trousers. There was purple up one cheek and in her hair, and purple around her mouth where she had been sucking absent-mindedly on purple fingers.
My children are supremely happy at daycare, and that makes me supremely happy too. That and the fact that I only have to clean purple paint off skin and clothes – not carpets and walls!
UpsideBackwards 
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