Right now Bruiser looks at me with complete adoration. If we are apart for even a short time, as soon as I hold him, he strokes my face, beams at me and then tries to eat my hair.
At the moment, everything I do is marvellous to Bruiser. The other day I only had to walk past him to extract peals of laughter. Diva requires a bit more effort to get a reaction, such as colouring in between the lines, or making Netflix work, or jumping over a log:
“Woah! That is nice colouring, Mummy. I like your picture.”
“You fixed it!”
“You’re doing it, Mummy!”
Now that she is older the adoration is waning. It is being replaced with high expectations and anger when things are not going her way. But of course this happens. She knows no different. I have always been there, clothed her, fed her, entertained her, taught her, helped her, comforted her and supported her. It’s hardly surprising that this very quickly gets taken for granted. If something completely trivial does not go according to plan she is furious with me.
As far as I’m aware, this does not get better. I am reliably informed that this adoration will continue a rapid descent until we enter the pre-teen years, at which point it will become non-existent.
Maybe if I take up juggling or shark wrestling I can make it last a bit longer.
My only solace is that now I’m all grown-up and dealing with my own children, it has made me appreciate much more what my parents did for me. The adoration is most definitely back and with it comes a substantial amount of admiration and gratitude.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I must go and stroke their faces and eat their hair.