How old are you Mummy?

My daughter has never had a problem with declaring her love for me. In fact, next to a long, drawn out “Muuuummmmmmmmmmmmmmyyyyy…..” I’d say that “Mummy, I love you” might be her most uttered phrase.  I can hear a collective awwwwww from you all.  You’re right, it’s lovely.  The first time I heard it my heart melted – this tiny human being loved me!  Fast forward 2 years, and I hear this phrase many, many times a day.  So much so that (sssshhhhhhhhh) I sometimes just ignore her *ahem*.  You see my daughter often has a case of verbal diarrhea, constantly wittering on about things, punctuated with ‘Mummy, I love you!’ It’s nice, but kind of tiring.  I mean, I like the kid, but not that much! (That was a joke by the way, for anyone who lacks a sense of humour).

Anyway, over the past couple of weeks a new question has taken over.  “How old are you Mummy?”  I’ve tried brushing her off with “oh, dead old”, “younger than Daddy!” or “How old do you think I am?”, the last of which completely backfired as she answered “54”.  *sigh*  What I didn’t realise was this constant line of questioning was coming from school.  It isn’t that Mrs Ash or Mr Lucas have a burning desire to bake me a cake or make me a card for my next birthday, but it is one of their cunning ways of teaching these 4 year olds numeracy. I find it fascinating how teachers manage to get through to our little ones who lets face it would rather spend all day playing – but that’s the thing – they are playing all day and doing fun things, and just so happen to be learning along the way!

I have huge amounts of respect for school teachers and the time and patience they dedicate to our children.