I am fairly tall, and my posture, although not perfect, is usually fairly good. Considering my age and stage, of course!

However, this morning I was walking hunched over, my back parallel with the floor! It was not easy, and the discomfort was very real. I had to get relief!  Yes, in the end, I had to ask for help.

Fortunately, Miss Three understood, and freed me of my obligation to continue playing “mothers and babies” with her. At that point, we were both “mothers”. My role was to push the identical twin toy dogs in the double doll stroller, while she pushed the single stroller with a teddy bear. These doll strollers were designed for children of between eighteen months and four years old to play with – not for someone of my height and age!

That, however, was our third “special thing for today”. We had already waved good-bye to her mother, who obliges each week with two toots of the car horn as she departs for work after dropping Miss Three at our place. That’s our normal custom now, so is fast becoming NOT such a special thing.

She then announced she had something VERY special for me. I had to close my eyes while she led me into the living room and drew something out of her daypack. I only peeked a little bit, as I didn’t want to walk into a wall. I held out my hands when asked to do so, and she placed in my hand the “special thing”. A very small page taken from her sister’s blank notebook, with a couple of squiggles on it.

She proudly informed me that it was a letter for me, and she had one for Pa as well. See photo. She’d written them both herself.

Last Tuesday, her big sister, Miss Five, had presented me with a hand-made card saying, “Dear Nanny, I love you”. She is now at “big school” and is learning to write. Miss Eight of course, writes very well. Miss Three wanted to have the same accomplishments as her two older sisters; I expressed my great delight at her effort. She added more to her letter as the morning progressed.

After making a cubby house in the living room (with a blanket over and between the armchairs and about nine cushions), and playing hide-and-seek (and, yes, she was always in the same place, her little cubby house!), there was no time for cooking before our bus ride to the nearby café. She was disappointed. Last week we made a meal for her family’s dinner. It used to be called “Toad in the Hole” but now it’s known as “Pigs in Blankets” The pigs are sausages. The blankets? A cheese batter over the sausages, and cheese on top, baked till golden.  Cooking was our special thing last week. Not today.

We arrived at the bus stop a few minutes early. While we waited, she collected a few special pebbles from the footpath for me, which I dutifully put in my jeans pocket, as requested. I also did this last week, and then forgot. The pebbles came out in the washing machine. She also found two tiny yellow flowers – dandelions. One was for me, the other was for ….

Her favourite bus driver picked us up. She greeted him with a cheery “Good morning!” and then reached out with the second flower, offering it to him.  His face lit up, and he said, “Very pretty!” but no. 

“It’s for you! To keep!” she told him. He thanked her.  She tapped on with my card and we found our seats. When we got off, she said, “Thank you,” and “Good-bye!” He offered her the flower back, but no, it was for him to keep, she told him again. His face shone as brightly as the sun. 

All went smoothly today with meeting Pa and Sunny at the café. I needed to buy a card and then go to the Post Office. Pa would order our drinks and wait for us in the café’s courtyard, with Sunny.

Miss Three chose to accompany me, to help me. I explained I needed a card for a man. No, not that one, Dear. That one is for a “Granddaughter”. Nor that one. That says “Brother”. We finally settled on an appropriate one. As it was going overseas, with a tiny gift inside, there was an amount of paperwork at the Post Office. The Post Office lady took forever, organising for tracking the dispatch. We finally returned to the café courtyard, by which time my "extra hot" chai latté was no longer hot. Miss Three had a little of her banana-flavoured (oat milk) milkshake ($7), and then chose to taste, and finish, my lukewarm chai latté. The banana milkshake is now in the fridge. Pa can drink it. At that price, it won’t be thrown out.

Back at the café, Sunny had made friends with one-year-old twins, little Indian children with the unlikely names of Carmen and Greg. Miss Three was entranced. Her favourite bus driver is also dark-skinned. I love that, for children, skin colour is irrelevant. I hope that will remain the case. If only children ruled the world ….

Back home, a quick lunch, then nap time. Just before bed, she threw her arms around me, and whispered in my ear.

“Thank you, Darling! I love you too!” I replied.

“Nanny, I said I love WATERMELON!” she declared.

Of course. Silly me!

Apparently, that is the current funny thing to say, for little kids. She’d seen her big sisters play this trick on their father and mother.

After her nap, we played again until I had to leave to pick up her sisters from school. I was the child; she was the mother. 

“Child, let’s go to the beach!” she announced. However, I apparently said the wrong thing in response.

“I am not Dear. You have to call me Mum,” I was told.

“Follow me, child!” I think that was when she wanted to seem important, calling me "child"; most of the time I was "Darling", which I rather liked.

Nevertheless, I dutifully hurried along behind her.

Shortly after that game, I left to collect the other two from school and take them to their home. This time, I was not manipulated into buying them a treat on the way home.  I had made pikelets while Miss Three napped, and that was their treat for today. I arrived at their school just as the storm burst. Yes, more rain. My umbrella chose this particular time to fall apart. I messaged Pa to put Sunny’s thunder vest on. No answer. Two phone calls went to voice mail. Grr.

I arrived home to see Sunny in his thunder vest. Calm and relaxed.

I took the rubbish bins to the kerb, and got soaking wet – no umbrella.

Pa offered to make dinner. Yes! 

So, I started on this story – and after a delicious dinner, and working on some emails and phone calls, I am finishing it off, and heading for bed now. The rubbish trucks come at around 5 in the morning. And Sunny hasn’t got used to the end of daylight savings yet. He thinks it’s time to get up at 5 am, which according to his body clock is 6 am.  I’m working on him.

Good night.