If you couldn't tell from my last few posts, I've been feeling a little down lately. I blame the post-holiday blues and lack of sleep as a result of two jet-lagged children keeping me up past midnight on a work night.
I guess my mood has been visibly obvious because on the flight back from America Crumpet asked me, "Are you sad to be leaving America?"
"A little," I admitted. "I always get a little sad when we have to leave."
"Because you miss your family?"
"Yes," I confirmed, trying to swallow the lump that was building in my throat.
"Then why did you move to England?" she then asked pointedly.
Sidestepping the complexities of such a question, I answered simply, "Well, that's just the way that it worked out when Daddy and I decided we wanted to get married."
"So you have to move countries when you get married?" she asked, her voice showing the slightest hint of panic.
"No, not always," I reassured her. "If you fall in love with someone who lives close to you, you might stay there. But Daddy and I already lived in different countries when we met and realised we loved each other, so we had to decide together where to live, and we chose England."
Hoping that I wouldn't have to go further into the technicalities, I was relieved when the conversation switched to more immediate five-year-old concerns. "Oh my God!" she sighed.
"What? What's the matter?"
"Three boys want to marry me!" And so the drama of raising girls increases.