Number 5

Number 5


Holly is 5. She’s been in the world and graced us with her presence for a whole five years. Sometimes I can’t quite believe it’s happened. How has she stopped being a tiny milk guzzling pink squish and become an intelligent, beautiful and unbelievably kind young lady?

She really knew her birthday was coming this year. We’ve been peppered with constant questions since March, ‘When is my birthday?’, ‘How many days is it now?’. When August finally rolled around I think we all heaved a sigh of relief we could start telling her it was this month.

Invites were made in a princess and pirate theme – as requested.

The party was booked at her dance studio – as requested.

Plans were put in place for a Shopkins cake to appear – as requested.

Birthdays are a wonderful time of life. I love my own, but it’s so close to Christmas it’s always overshadowed. I love that H has an end of summer birthday. Not that she minds, she wouldn’t mind when it was, she’s so easy-going. Very rarely these days do we have the temper tantrums, melt downs and paddies that we’ve seen at the milestones of 2 and 3. This has been the year of questions.

‘Why do the clouds move like that?’

‘How many coughs did I do today?’

‘Why do people in India go to bed when we wake up?’

‘What does proud/bossy mean?’

‘What does the man on the radio mean by ‘gender pay gap’?

Yes- that’s right, she’s starting to hear everything! I can’t even spell things out anymore and expect her not to ask! I was having a conversation with her Big Hair Grandma about her toilet habits (Holly’s habits- not BH Grandma’s) and she looked at me and said, ‘Why do you keep spelling P-O-O?’.


Spelling in conversations is over. Unless I start spelling ten letter words really fast… that’s always an option?

Holly is still as loving and sensitive as she ever was. Sensitive always sounds like a negative word – I don’t mean it to be. She needs cuddles, cuddles and more cuddles. She needs to know that her friends at school haven’t fallen out with her and why someone would say they didn’t want to come to her party. It’s a lovely quality she has and one I hope this next year at school doesn’t knock out of her.

You see, we’re moving into Year 1. At the grand old age of 5 and 8 days, she’s already in Year 1. Who knows what this year will bring? I’m sure there will be more questions, more why, why, why and less spelling in secret conversations. I’m just hoping she won’t start asking about her 6th birthday until we’ve had Christmas. Surely that’s not too much to ask?

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