This post is not about my brother in Scotland, who is nearly a father now. And it isn't about my other brother, although after reading what he's been going through this week, it probably should be. Scary stuff.
This post is about Little Fish. LF, my own Clingon child who wobbles at the thought of me going out for the evening, even when she knows I will only be five minutes away, even when she knows the sitter. Little Fish, who after many tears and tantrums last night whilst I was helping Mog and packing for hospital, decided that the best way for us to say goodbye was for me to put her into bed as the ambulance turned around, say our goodnight prayers and have a big kiss, and then sleep peacefully knowing I was taking Mog to see the doctors.
Little Fish, who, whilst pleased to see me when I collected her from school, was more concerned about checking up on Mog. Little Fish who busily informed all the staff that her sister had "A 'fection", and who sat beside me as I cuddled Mog, asking everyone when we could take Mog home.
Little Fish who was pleased to see Grannie, and excited about riding in Grannie's car. And Little Fish who, when Grannie gave her a stuffed toy reindeer, immediately said "My sister like that, we give her a present", who turned to me and kissed me, and then sent me back off upstairs to deliver a reindeer.
I do love that girl!