Since the beginning of this year Leo has been answering the “How old are you?” question in the following way: “I’m three in August.”
Then one day last week our little boy woke up to find he was in fact three years old.
“Am I three now?” He said, still blurry eyed, seconds after waking.
“Yes Leo, you’re three now.”
He opened his presents with the kind of pure authentic excitement only a young child has on their birthday morning. Tearing the wrapper paper away, he’d gasp in delight every time as he reached the surprise inside.
“Yank you mummy and daddy,” he even said a few times.
After a joy-filled family visit, we headed to The Living Rainforest. Based not far from where I grew up, we drove past my childhood home and I pointed my bedroom window out to Maia.
While the day was all about Leo, it felt rather special to show my own daughter where I spent my formative years.
The rainforest housed one glorious discovery after the next. Blue frogs, monkeys, snakes… A hidden sloth named Cinnamon we became obsessed with finding. “There, that leaf moving. It’s there.”
The rest of the summer has whizzed by the way time does when you’re trying to satisfy the needs of three different people. Parks, playdates and birthday parties have punctuated our weeks.
Though I’ve also had my arts-fill, seeing a generous three plays in London.
My cousins and I saw Dr Semmelweis; an unforgettable piece of theatre I’d thoroughly recommend.
We spotted Mark Rylance, the play’s lead, on Jermyn Street shortly before the performance and in my cousin’s words they “made clear eye contact”.
I managed a photo of his back. (It’s not the first time we’ve semi-stalked Rylance, the actor kindly took selfies with us after Othello at the Globe in 2018, which of course he remembers fondly.)
I couldn’t mention the arts without acknowledging our latest cultural phenomenon: the Barbie film. Saw it, loved it, cried a little. I went with a good friend and fellow mother.
This was the first time she’d left her six-month old twins for a few hours, so we made the most of our baby-free evening and polished off two cocktails each. It was nice to be able to finish our sentences. And our mojitos.
Among the usual smattering of days out, we’ve also had family from Italy staying at my parents’, meaning a few lovely lazy afternoons, playing table tennis and having pudding with every meal.
There’ve been a healthy dose of games including: hangman, pairs, Dobble and an almost-child-friendly, drastically altered version of Cards Against Humanity.
I’ve squeezed writing into every nook and cranny of time I could find each day, sending emails at 11pm then wondering why I can’t fall asleep.
Lying in bed one night staring at photos of other people at the beach, it dawned on me that my toes hadn’t touched sand once this year. Both my solo trips had been city breaks, and as of yet, we’d failed to squeeze in a single beach visit.
“BEACH DAY NEXT WEEK!!” I messaged Joel, referring to his week off, which currently consists of about twelve things I’d like to do in five days.
Leo briefly continued telling people he’d be three in August, until we suggested he update it:
“I’m three now,” he informed a neighbour yesterday.
Oh, to be three.
Angela blogs at The Colourful Kind
