This is what Flea said to me at 8.52am this morning as we prepared to get into the car with the cereal in a cup (today: Weetabix and raisins).
We arrived at nursery and Flea trudged in next to me, looking for all the world like I was about to pack her off to a Soviet labour camp. When the staff asked about her birthday and what presents she’d got, Flea just shrugged, in a world-weary way, and began to cry.
One of the nursery staff swept Flea into her arms for a cuddle and I backed out of the room as Flea reached over the woman’s shoulders, sobbing, “Mummy, please don’t leave meeeeee….”
I’ve got loads of work on at the moment, and I know logically that Flea has to be in nursery so I can get it done but, oh, that face. She does crying really well – no snot or unattractive scrunching up – she just lets tears roll down her perfect little cheeks while looking unbelievably sad. It breaks my heart just to look at her.
As I was going out of the front door of the nursery I saw my friend Ann with her little girl. “Hello Anya,” I said. “I think Flea is feeling a little sad, perhaps you could go and play with her to cheer her up?”
Two minutes later, I got a text from Ann: Couldn’t find Flea at first. She was outside on top of the slide shouting: “I am Captain Hook and you are all the crew of my pirate ship Ya-HAAARRRR!” Think she’s ok.
She’s either a future Meryl Streep or Frank Abagnale.