25th February 2019
Dear Cooper and Finn,
We walked to the park this afternoon (well, I did, you two just sat back and enjoyed the view and moaned at me whenever I slowed down — you're pretty heavy now FYI). I pushed you both on the swings and you squealed and giggled and had that look on your faces like you can't believe the swings were free because surely if people knew how amazing they were they’d be on them all the time, so you try and hold in your glee so that other people don't catch on and you get to keep swinging forever. Except you can't swing forever, and when the time came to lift you out and put you in your pushchair to go home, you cried and looked at me like I was the meanest person in the whole wide world. And I felt terrible. (Nor terrible enough to let you keep swinging though.) If you could talk, you'd have said you wanted to stay on the swings and asked why we had to leave. And I’d have said something very boring and adult like 'Well it would be lovely to just swing on swings all day but sadly life doesn't work like that and we need to get home so you can throw food all over the floor for half an hour sorry I mean eat your tea and go to bed.’ And then we'd have entered into a negotiation and you'd have won an extra 3 minutes and 47 seconds of swing time because I am weak. But you can't talk yet, so I am making the most of being able to just put you back in your pushchair and take you home without an argument. As always, you have got me thinking about why we can't just swing on swings all day. And when you're 47 and I feel ok about leaving you in the park by yourself, you're welcome to do that if you want. Although you probably won't, because you'll have discovered lots of other things you enjoy by then. And it is important to spend time doing the things you enjoy and not always worry about getting home in time for tea. But if everyone just swang on swings all day, who would make the swings? XXX