My daughter just turned 6...6 magical years where I've laughed harder than I never thought I could, cleaned more bottoms than I ever want to...ever, gave and received the "best hugs EVER", know the words to numerous Barbie songs and Frozen, tripped over countless toys while screaming "can you put it away" for the 3 millionth time. I've stopped nose bleeds, held vomit (trying to get to the toilet in time), kissed knees, elbows, hands, heads and everywhere in between.
I've tracked down Russian Masha dolls (before you could buy the UK version as it was "the best programme ever").
I've blown up over 300 balloons (lacerating finger once in the process - who knew these thing can rip result in paper like cuts).
I've organised birthday parties, wrapped presents, written invites and thank you letters. I've sat through tantrums, meltdowns and screaming matches. I've better diplomacy skills than the UN sorting "best friend ever" issues. I've carried scooters, bikes and cuddly toys past people without batting an eyelid.
I've been a teacher, vet, astronaut, doctor, post office attendant, bus driver and taxi driver (plus other odd jobs) but only received plastic money for the privilege.
I've made castles, bracelets, cakes and cookies - some of which went straight in the bin buy it was fun making (albeit messy).
I've checked for nits (none thankfully so far). I've read more books in the last 6 years than the previous 6...granted, many stories are about animals or princesses.
I've cried, I've hid (bathroom) and at times wondered what I ever did to deserve this!?
But looking back, I've now got a smart, funny, adorable, cute, caring and gorgeous little lady (ok I'm slightly biased). Someone to laugh with, to go shopping and when I'm old and drooling, it'll be her turn to wipe my butt!!! Mwah, ha ha!!!