Holding court in Crete
I’ve just returned from a week in Crete, which was heaven, even if my husband and I did accidentally end up visiting a former leprosy colony for our 10th anniversary.
We also inadvertently booked to go during half term (the only time I could find Avios flights), and obviously, as soon as I realised I started panicking about the noisy flipping kids everywhere. Then I remembered I now have my own noisy child, and that it would probably be nice for her to have plenty of children to play with. Still, I worried that she’d be intimidated when we got to the pool, or shy around unknown children and their parents. “What if she doesn’t make friends?” I asked my husband as she waded in, immediately feeling guilty that we haven’t provided her with numerous little siblings to keep her entertained.
Luckily, I didn’t need to worry. Because during this holiday I finally twigged that my daughter now has a fully-developed personality of her own; that of socialite extraordinaire. As soon as she’d marched into that pool in her frilly cossie and rainbow sunglasses she was holding court, waving fluorescent orange armbands around as she chatted confidently to every mum, dad and child within her orbit. No one escaped. My husband and I sat agog as she introduced herself and made conversation, explaining to random six-year-olds that she was a “purple mermaid” and “very good at splashing”, complete with demonstrations. She boldly joined in games and shared toys, occasionally popping back to see us but also very happy to go and ask other random adults to re-inflate her arm bands for her. It was incredible.
It’s shocking to comprehend that you’ve created a whole new human being, and that they are completely different from you. I’m fairly sociable but not particularly extroverted, and my husband is much more reserved than me, so we couldn’t understand where this rambunctious little pub landlady of a child had come from. I guess being in full time nursery for years partly explains my daughter’s sociable nature, which is interesting, because all I’ve read is how scarred she might be by the experience. Instead, it seems that shockingly, there might actually be positives to childcare, aside from parental sanity.
As I watched her large it up like Princess Margaret in Mustique, a thought kept niggling me that perhaps I should tell my daughter to chill out a bit, for fear she was bugging the mum in the sun lounger opposite etc. But then I realised I was just projecting my insecurities onto her (again) and that letting her little flame burn bright is the best way to parent such a child. I don’t want her to agonise over what other people think of her, like I do, or inherit my people-pleasing tendency to not to be an imposition in any way. Actually, I’m in awe of her confidence. It’s the counterpoint to her often exasperatingly wilful personality; she also has a ballsy, gregarious and outgoing nature that I love. And truly, I cannot wait to go to her parties when we’re older.