Dear Delilah...

Dear Delilah,

There is something I want to tell you. I haven't told you this before, but given that today is the first day of 'grown up' Kinder for you, I thought the timing was right.

I want to tell you that you are the only one of you in the whole world. Your whole life there will never be another one of you. You Delilah are a miracle and you are unique. When you were in my tummy, your kicks were so very strong. You didn't rest for long. You wanted to get going on life and not wait around. Those kicks are still just as strong when you crawl into our bed at night and try to make more room.

You were born with piercing blue eyes already trying to make sense of this world from the second you saw it, you hardly blinked. You didn't cry when you were born, you just seemed pleased to finally be here, oblivious to the chaos that surrounded your birth. The newborn photo of you doesn't look like other newborn photos I have seen, you had a look and awareness beyond the 30 minutes you had been in the world.

So today you went off to 'big girl' Kinder. You were very excited. You are always excited and happy, you love to make people laugh and you love to love. It is hard for me to leave you at Kinder, as much as we do have our differences at times because our personalities are so similar, when you were born I never stopped to think that one day someone else would be teaching you things.

I am your Mum, you are my little girl and I miss you. I wonder what you are doing. I hope you are not telling too many jokes and trying your best to listen. And if you are telling jokes, I hope the other kids understand your Delilah-brand sense of humour. I hope you like your lunch you helped me pack this morning and there is lots to smile about today.

Your smile is one of the best around. Your smile, your bright eyes and those one and a half dimples you have are just part of what makes you our Delilah. You are so caring, you love your big brother with all your heart, lungs and liver and you just want everyone to be happy.

You are a spontaneous dancer, sometimes I catch you singing and dancing along to your own tunes. A tune only you can hear. I think the rest of us miss out not being able to hear that tune too. I love how the other morning you asked me to help you find some shoes for the day which would “help you dance to the beat because that day was a fun day”.

Delilah, you were born with your first teeth just about ready to pop through, you were attempting to crawl at three months and talked not long after that. At one you were not only walking, but climbing, you were a climber and saw everything as a challenge to be conquered. It seemed like you were never really a baby, but a tiny person with a mission and the rest of us were simply along for the ride.

You notice so many of the little details in life, the things the rest of us don't. Or perhaps the rest of us are “too busy” or perhaps we just don't look hard enough. Some might say you are easily distracted, I think you just need to find the beauty in everything. Flowers are among your favourite, you love appreciating every flower in a garden for their individual properties.

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I have just picked you up from your first day, I asked you how it went. You told me how one friend got sad because he hurt his eye on a hat and another friend had a tummy ache. Then you told me how you drew a picture for another friend because she was missing her Mummy. You didn't tell me what you did or about any of the the games played, you only told me about your friends who felt sad. You called them all your friends. I wanted to hear you tell me how you built a tower or dug in the sandpit or painted a picture or listened to a story. But to you, that stuff wasn't important. Of course you would notice the details, I should have known better. You said you had a great day and the next morning you wanted to go again, and were disappointed to discover Kinder wasn't on again until next week so I guess you must have enjoyed it.

I am not sure why I was surprised that the only things you told me were about other children who were sad. You and Leo are so very different. It wouldn't have surprised me if he had told me that, I thought you were the more fun-loving one without too much of care. I was wrong. It seems you are both born with a compassionate heart and you really wanted the sad kids to be happy. When we left you even yelled to one of your friends (the one with the tummy ache) “hope you feel better soon”.

You loved Kinder, you loved the idea of starting your very own adventure in life and you can't wait to go back. I think it will take a while for me to stop missing you and wanting to know every detail of what happened at 2 p.m. every day. Now both my babies are on their own adventures without me, without Daddy or Grandma or Grandpa or Nan or Pa or any other special people like that.

Eventually I think I will get used to it, that I will remember you are an amazing little person and the most important thing to you is how others feel and that is a pretty incredible quality to have at four and a half. As a mother I should be proud of that and listen intently about the other children and how they felt when you tell me with a furrowed brow and sincere look with no sign of those dimples. I guess I'll just have to learn to assume that the towers that get built, the games that are played and the holes that are dug are fun but not as important to you as how the others felt while they were built, played or dug and if everyone got a turn.

For nearly seven years I have had a little person with only me, Daddy, Grandma, Grandpa, Nan or Pa to educate them about life. Now I don't. Now they are both off learning things by themselves and many of them I will never even hear about. They are with groups of other children and interacting socially without me to prompt them if they get stuck or help them pronounce names or remind them about manners. Those perfect little baby legs they were born with are now covered in bruises, scratches and paint and glue and I don't know what caused the injuries and they don't remember - they don't care - they probably didn't even cry. Now I sit and listen about their days rather than having shared them together or with someone just as special who would give me an individual report.

This is about me, not you. I have to learn to adjust to life as mum of a Grade One boy and a big Kinder girl, you have made the adjustment seamlessly. If there was a text book for this type of thing, I think you would make a good case study. It won't stop me telling you magical stories of when you were born and reminiscing about funny baby things. But I also understand that you are growing up. They warned me it would happen, I guess I just never believed it. And they also said the condition is permanent, you will keep growing up and I know I will have these feelings all over again when you start school, when you and Leo start high school, when you grow out of your next lot of clothes, when you get your licence...oh, that's enough of that!

In the meantime, I guess I'll just keep writing...it's all I can do. I hope you know how loved you are Delilah Rose. I hope you grow up being proud of the unique person you are. I hope you never stop caring about others as you do and I hope you continue in your quest to make the world a happier place. We could all take a leaf out of your book, starting with your Mummy.

Congratulations on your first day of Big Girl Kinder Delilah, bring on the next one! (Did that sound convincing?)

Love with all my heart,

Mummy.