My Little Mother

She's such a little mother, this little girl of mine. She loves her babies and doesn't sleep without them. She mimics my every move with my Khaira-baby, rushing for a blanket so she can put her baby to sleep when I put mine down for a little nap. 

She mothers everything, making them a baby in her imagination. She rocks the dumbells and tells me that 'baby blue' is sleeping. She covers a water bottle with a makeshift blanket made up of kleenex. 

Her imagination knows no bounds. Her creativity is endless. Her confidence is inspiring. 

I feel the weight of mothering her and her little sister, the responsibility of shaping and guiding these little ones. And I wonder at myself, am I being a good mum? 

I watch her, my little mimic, and see the way she nurtures and loves and cares for all of her many babies. And I know that she feels loved and nurtured and cared for and that everything else will be okay. 

As I publish this, we're getting ready to go away for the weekend, to Vancouver. To re-connect and refresh ourselves. My little girl is spending the time with her aunt and uncle and we're taking the Khaira-baby with us.