If there is ever a seminal moment in a child's life, it's the transition from babies cot to big grown-up bed.
This normally occurs somewhere around the child's second birthday, which means that the child has no memory of the move, making it more of a seminal moment in a parent's life, as they lament the end of the baby years.
Which is exactly what I'm doing at the moment.
And I'm emotional.
For Edie, this transition has been, somewhat fraught, not to mention rather slow, starting more than a year ago and ending last night with the listing of it on e-bay.
I almost cried.
Edie may have already turned three, but she has show no signs of wanting to make the transition into her big girls bed, if 'Mummy, cot'. *wail, sob, sob, wail* 'Mummy, cot, pleeeeeease', is anything to go by.
Silly, maybe, but it has been more than just a place to sleep. For a child such as Edie, who lists her best friends as 'pillow' and 'thumb', 'cot' has been her little sanctuary, a place that she has always welcomed, never ever resisted and on numerous occasions, has had to be forcibly removed from.
But the time has come. She is now as long as the cot itself and, I hate to admit it, almost as wide.
It is, however, still in her room, and until e-bay works its magic, there it shall remain, a reminder of happier times. And I say that because last night at 2 o'clock in the morning, I sat cradling a crying child who had, unfortunately, thumped to the floor from her newly-slept in bed. The presence of 'cot' was not welcome, causing, as it did, even more tears.
Little Edie, we will never forget your cot. I was even tempted to write a poem, 'an ode to cot', but having sat here for the last half an hour trying to work out what rhymes with cot other than bot bot, I realise that I am, erm, not a poet.
So little cherub, this will have to do.
You were a baby.
And now you're not.
Charlotte Pearson joined Susanna's group
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