beckity

The morning I woke up and *just* felt the familiar uncomfortable swell of morning sickness was strangely comforting. The tummy bug that had made me sick throughout the previous night had settled down, my tummy's gurgling brought to a standstill. The week before, part of the blob's placenta came away from my uterus panicking me into thinking I was miscarrying. Doctors put me on hormones (because that's clearly one thing pregnant women are lacking...) to slow me down and help the repair (read, 'knock me out') and since taking the final pill, they had finally worn off, and I was no longer seeing my world through a blur. A small triumph, I lifted my head from the pillow and faced another day.

I close the book and turn it over, half-expecting the 'geh-geh' Elsie's chosen to say for 'again' and has said every time I've finished the book for the last few days. It's her  book of the moment after all, with rich pictures on each page full of objects she can name. 'Ball! Bear! Shoe! Car!' I barely have to read it. Instead though, she points at the title, and clear as anything, says 'encore!' My jaw drops and I realise a week back at the creche has done its job. 'Sorry?' I ask, eyebrows raised, not believing my ears. Elsie blinks, looks right into my face and 'encore!' she repeats. I squeeze her tight, kiss her head and start the book again.

Elsie wanders round the flat sporting her sad face. 'Dah-dee' she says 'Dah-deeee'. 'Daddy's still at work, my love' I explain, getting a puzzle out of the box. 'He'll be home soon'. She wanders over and looks at the puzzle. 'Will you help me?' I ask, and she sadly shakes her head. 'Dah-dee' she continues to wonder. 'Shall we call him and see when he'll be back?' I ask, and get an enthusiastic nod. I dial the number and put the phone on loadspeaker. 'Are you going to say hello when he answers?' I ask and Elsie starts practising 'ello Dah-dee! Ello Dah-dee!' 'Hello?' he says and there's a moment of uncertainty when Elsie's eyes meet mine. I nod my encouragement. 'ELLO Dah-DEE!' she says into the phone, a huge grin spreading across her face as he tells her what a clever girl she is.

Elsie's language is slowly changing. The summer holidays with long stretches of hearing nothing but English have worked wonders. She now says 'chair' 'bear' 'Claire' 'Hair' 'air'... you see the theme. But we also get 'plane', 'car' and 'book'. She looks at me when I ask her to repeat, concentration in her clear eyes and a willingness to succeed that I can feel. 'Well done!' I say, 'clever girl!' and she smiles, a victory grin. If there is something she doesn't know the word for, which still applies to a lot, she'll study it and use her fail-safe standby word. 'Bai go goo' she'll say, eyebrows raised and pointing. 'Yes Elsie,' we encourage 'an umbrella'. A slight nod of agreement, 'bai go goo' she'll confirm.

Elsie puts down the pen and looks at her hands. 'Uh-oh!' 'What's up love?' I ask and she shows me the multi-coloured traces across her palms. 'Shall we wash your hands?' She nods and walks to the bathroom. 'Wait a minute, Ruth's in there. Let's wash your hands in the toilet instead.' She gives me an uncertain glance. I follow her in, and get there just in time to pull her back from the toilet bowl. The basin in the toilet, my love.' I explain, 'the basin ' and turn on the tap.