Closing the loop

My daughter, her ways, and bikini bodies (trigger warning: Miscarriage)

Good day to you from THE POOL.

This morning, if you’ll allow, I’m going to talk about my daughter for a bit. My child, the looper. See evidence above – demanded I call her ‘Angel’ and would ONLY miaow to me for two full hours this morning. Even with her backpack on her head.

Lydia is five (an end-of-April baby) who emerged from my womb like an imprint of her dad. Physically, she’s him all over. Her eyes, her complexion, her expressions – all him. She has some of my personality, and I’m reliably informed that she’s like me when I was small, but she’s very like her dad in that she’s not a huge fan of… well, people.

She’s quite shy and can be a little anxious in new environments, so last year although she qualified in age for the Mini Club kids’ club, she only toyed with the idea of going, never actually casting a shadow at the door. She’s naturally suspicious and doubting of all adults, mostly men (I guess that probably came from me, to be fair to her) and likes the safety of knowing where I am (or where her daddy is) all the time.

So today, on the second day of this ten day holiday, when she asked to go to the kids’ club, I didn’t jump up and down with excitement. It mightn’t pan out. She could spook at any time. I stayed calm. “Okay, let’s put sun cream on and then take a walk down?” She seemed into it.