HM, my four-year-old, was sitting on my lap last night; a snuggly warm bundle, still glowing from her bath. Her straw yellow hair had the faint smell of summer.
“Mummy,” she said looking at me intently with her father’s blue eyes, “I used to be best friends with Madison, and now I hardly see her.” She paused waiting patiently for my mummy-knows-everything answer.
It’s true. Madison left at the beginning of term to go to another school. We had a playdate with her yesterday, which is probably what prompted her comment. Some friendships are like butterflies, flitting in and out of your life. But how do you explain this to a four-year-old that just wants the comfort of colouring in with an old friend?
