Amy's always been a sensitive child, the slightest thing causes emotions that are often overwhelming. But last night she made me realise just how sensitive, nostalgic and emotional she really is. She had a headache which I managed to cure with Calpol and a few bad jokes, not to mention watching iCarly in my bed. I insisted that she went to bed at 9pm, half an hour earlier than her usual school-night bedtime. I could tell she was ready, she didn't debate it, so I took her to bed and offered to read her a story like I used to do every night up until she was about eight years old. Anyway, the story we chose was taken from a compilation of cute tales about the Bunnykins Family. When I brought the book out she burst into tears. My natural reaction was of course to hold her close, stroke her hair and assure her everything was alright. Amongst the huge shoulder-jerking sobs she said, "I'm so happy, mum. This book brings back such wonderful memories."
I continued to hold her while she clung to me. They were tears I had no chance of stopping. She was so emotionally charged that I thought it best to let them flow, let her get the moment of precious nostalgia out of her system. Eventually, I was able to read the story, a short and beautifully illustrated tale of 6 bunnies going to the seaside. I felt as though I had been taken back to the days of CBeebies, 64 Zoo Lane and Story Makers. It was the best fifteen minutes I have spent for a long time. She stopped crying eventually and I kissed her goodnight. I often wonder if my love for that child can get any stronger but after nights like that one, I realise it does, every single day.