If the shoe fits…


It’s 11pm and I have just finished the first chapter of Edward Tulane, a book that my 9 year old daughter asked me to read because she thought that I would really enjoy it… Feeling a little childish reading pages with very big letters (and some pictures), I close my eyes and cuddle my cute fluffy teddy bearlike dog, ready for sleep to overtake me.


My phone ‘pings’. I cannot control my curiosity, I jump out of my bed and check my newly arrived message. It turns out to be a long winded letter from a narcissistic friend who is rambling about nonsense. I’m bored and irritated by the time I reach the end, so I turn off my phone and try to go back to sleep.


The door slams. I jump, a bit scared as I think…WHO THE HELL IS IN MY HOUSE?! I’m unsure of my next move, when I suddenly realised that it must have been my nanny who left the side gate open. No one has broken into the house after all! Phew! Feeling a wee bit silly, I go back to bed and snuggle up to my cute fluffy dog.


My stomach starts growling. I’m starving. I decide to go down to the kitchen and make myself some toast with a glass of red wine to calm the nerves. I realise that I should probably not be drinking at this hour but whatever, I’m not feeling much like listening to reason or logic at this point in time. Feeling a bit naughty, I take my last sip of wine and go back to bed.


The side door slams AGAIN. There was no way I could put it off any longer, I had to go outside and lock the door. I look around for a pair of shoes but the only ones available are my 9 year old daughters. My baby’s shoes…

And the shoe fit!

I realised with shock that not only is my daughter growing up fast, but this ‘perfect-fit’ was a clear signal alerting me that I was acting like a child.


Thank you for reading,