Due to the fact that his older siblings are at school Mr. Small spends a great deal of his time going everywhere I go.
In recent months this has involved what he would deem "boring" trips to select ovens and tiles, or to choose carpets and fittings for the bathrooms.
Whenever we get out of the car to go into the shop I intone in my deepest, gravest voice: "Now *Mr Small* remember to have GOOD BEHAVIOUR."
And in an equally deep, grave voice he says: "Yes mummy, GOOD BEHAVIOUR!"
Usually we depart fifteen minutes later, with me flustered and sweat dripping down my back with a very cranky Mr. Small in tow.
You see, I can say those words and he can agree with them, but in his eyes they are meaningless. He just likes being able to say what I say. Fortunately these disastrous trips are becoming rarer, as I learn to make decisions more quickly, and he too learns some patience.
In many other ways however, he is a VSH (very small human)
At night-time he loves nothing more than to fall asleep to the sound of his daddy reading him a book. He kisses his big sister whenever she is crying. He joins in everything his older siblings do even though he can't do it very well.
They, being VSH's themselves, are very tolerant and understanding of his need to take part.
He insists on "helping" the builders whenever we visit our house.
He loves nothing more than helping me sort the laundry or if I'm helping out at a craft project at school. He isn't very good at them, and if I let him help it takes ten times as long, but I've really learned that my VSH wants to be an active part of my life.
So together we bake, we shop, we chatter and sing.We are able to go on "coffee dates" together where he gabbles away about everything from the full moon to the fascinating artefacts that clutter our local haunt.
 I've learned to soak up every minute of it.
Because all too soon my order will only be for one...


*Mr Small* not his real name obviously

I took one look at her pale face this afternoon when I picked her up from school and cancelled swimming lessons. Yes they've been paid for, and yes she has terrific teachers, but I know my daughter better than she knows herself. So my offspring and I spent the afternoon sprawled on the couch watching Disney movies. We ate dinner there. I ran them a bath and we sang songs in it. And then I read them "Goosey Lucy" and tried to keep my voice steady at the sad bits failing miserably. Afterwards we said a little prayer together and I tucked her into bed clutching her worn out stuffed elephant "Lumpy." And I checked on her just now and she's fast asleep.
We never do that. We rarely watch tv during the week simply because we're too busy. We always eat dinner at the table and usually we have some homework time.
But not tonight. Boundaries are great, so are routines. But if parenthood has taught me anything, there are no absolutes.
I know that as her parent I did the right thing. I spend much of my time trying to do that. Not always succeeding.
My sweet daughter is very bright. Where I struggled enormously with my son in developing his literacy and numeracy skills, my daughter sails through it all. But where my son is calmer in personality, she is highly strung.
And I knew when I picked her up today that if I'd carried out our planned agenda we would have had a meltdown of catastrophic proportions.
Growing up with so many younger brothers, my joy was unbounded when I delivered my little girl. In fact, as I was wheeled out of theatre back to my room, I remember chanting over and over to my husband: "We made a girl!, We made a girl!"
I have shamelessly indulged her love of all things pink and purple, her love of dressing up because I knew it would be temporary. That one day, she would put away those things.
Yesterday I caught her examining one of her fairy skirts and some gauzey wings. She hesitated, then put them away in her drawer. She wore them all the time to kindergarten last year, but I haven't seen them make an appearance this year. So this morning I told her she could dress up as a fairy at home if she wanted too.
And this afternoon she did.
I want her home to be a place she feels safe.
A place where she can be herself.
So this afternoon I got to snuggle up with Tinkerbell while her older brother dressed up in his lion costume. Because he could.
Because I know them better than they know themselves, and with me, they can just be, them.