This was Flea at 6pm last night.
I'd sent her upstairs to get ready for her bath, and when I popped up five minutes later she was extremely distressed. Worried she might be hurt, I asked her to tell me what was wrong.
"I can't tell you Mummy," she sobbed, tears pouring down her face.
"You can tell me absolutely anything," I reassured her.
"It's just that..," she began, taking a deep breath to steady herself. "It's just that none of my wishes come true."
Now, that's pretty tough to hear. Flea was so heartbroken I would have done anything to cheer her up again. "What wishes do you mean, honey?"
Flea thought for a moment. "I can't tell you because then they will NEVER come true," she sniffled.
Good point.
"Okay, well, how about this – if you tell me your wishes, I promise to help you make one of them come true," I reassured her.
She snuggled into my arms. "Really?"
Well, I'm nothing if not a woman of my word. "Really," I said.
Now, this is a great thing to say to your five-year-old if you can somehow guarantee that they are wishing for a new toy, or a special outfit. You'd think I'd know by now – I don't have that child.
So, like someone walking blindfold into a bear trap, I continue: "What did you wish for, honey?"
Flea has snuggled herself into my arms, her fingers curled around mine. Her sobbing has slowed down to a sniffle, now she's confident Mummy is going to grant her wish.
"Well, I was wishing that Zara was my sister and I could live at her house, and that you would live there too," she said.
Okay, that's clearly not an option, so I move on. "And what else?"
"I wish I was a dog," says Flea. "But it has to be a Jack Russell."
Bugger. I think fast. There has to be a way out.
"That sounds ace, Flea. Just on the off-chance, have you ever wished for a Spiderman outfit?"
Thank God for that.
