On the last day of 2015


Dear Emily,

On the last day of 2015, you still love drawing above anything else (be it on paper, furniture, walls…). But writing is very quickly catching up. You will write letters and messages to anyone about anything under the sun. You also love writing lists (wonder where you got that from…!!) You love having your nails painted and your hair done. You are still in love with M and fully intend to marry him when you are both 20. You mention your cousins every day and beg us to find a way for you to build a snowman with them. It has been months and you still ask for the same thing; we are going to need to figure out a way to make your wish come through one of these days. You ask questions about things I’ve never spent so much as a millisecond thinking about, you are showing a healthy amount of common sense for your age, can be very responsible and reliable. You have a smile that can light up a room, a voice that never rests and an appetite for learning that is insatiable. I hope that none of these ever become muted (but do consider that Mummy’s ears could do with a rest from the constant chatter every now and then!) and 2016 sees you as strong and determined as you currently are.

Love you little sweetpea x



Dear Adam,

On the last day of 2015, I can’t help but wish the year had been kinder to you. But it’s been more than a year of illness for you. You’ve become a little boy this year, no longer a baby. You are a sweet, affectionate and considerate little boy. You have a heart of gold and a permanent twinkle in your eye. You are convinced that you are a superhero and your love for anything with wheels is no less passionate than it was 12 months ago.

Here are some things I want to remember about you this year: the way you use “actually;” the way you rest your hand on my arm randomly; the way anything that happened in the past, according to you, happened “yesterday;” the way you compliment my hair or my clothes; the way you look deep into my eyes and say “Mummy, I love you so much;” the way you refuse to acknowledge the existence of trousers or tops with long sleeves (you are SUCH a Dubai child!); the way your version of dancing is jumping around while smacking your own bum, and how you tell everyone that Mummy and Daddy dance like that on the beach. So much more too, but suffice it to say that at the end of this year, I am just happy that you are healthy, your spirit still as vibrant as ever, and I am lucky enough to be your Mummy.



Happy New Year!


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