Cluck cluck cluck

On Sunday, Richard and I were lucky enough to be delivered of one child, namely Amelie, my nearly-3 year old niece. It was our first sleepover. I swore I could hear this howl of delight as her father drove away, only having his 1 year old daughter to look after now, but maybe I was mistaken.

We did an Easter Egg hunt, we foraged for walnuts from our tree, we played the guitar and read Kimi and the Watermelon. We were reminded - often - that she was a big girl who could do it herself - and she could.

She hopped up on a stool and helped me peel the potatoes for dinner, and even cut them into little pieces. "We're having thauthages," she reminded me.

Sitting up for a pre-approved meal of said thauthages, peas, lashings of tomato sauce and mashed spud, Amelie decides she doesn't want any mashed spud.

Well. I am well-versed in child psychology (I'm not really).

"Richard!" I say. "This mash is the most delicious thing I have ever eaten! Try it!"

"Oh wow," he says. "You are right. This is better than Easter Eggs."

"Mmmmm," now positively flirting with my fork, "this tastes like chips and McDonalds put together!"

Richard takes a forkful of Amelie's mash.

"Hey! Yours is even better than ours!"

Amelie is staring at us.

"Try it Amelie! It's soooooo delicious!"

"Yeah, I still don't want it," she says.

One bubbly bath and two stories later, she's crashed out in our spare room, muttering "can do it myself....big girl..all by myself...."

We're zombified on the couch. Add to this daylight savings and the clocks going back an hour, I'm ready for bed at 8pm. All night I doze, imagining burglars and nocturnal wanderings and the cat sitting on her head. At 5.15 though, a poke in the shoulder tells me she's awake. She crawls into bed with us and snuggles up for a snooze. I don't even mind that it's dark and an ungodly hour. It's lovely.

Her father picks her up at 10.30. Richard and I are contemplating a beer and cooking dinner, because we've been up for so long. He laughs at our hollow eyes and stories.

After she's gone, the house is too quiet. I know parenting isn't all fun and games and snuggles, but if what we had for only one night is some of it, then I can't wait.