A Letter to My Two Year Old Goddaughter

Following a toddler tantrum with toys, books and clothes thrown across the room, I was called upon to offer some words of advice to my Goddaughter.


My Dear Pink,

I understand that parents are tough. Believe me, after 21 and a half years of being a daughter, I know what I’m talking about. They insist on the consumption of vegetables, they dislike your favourite muddy wellies on the cream carpet (completely unaware of the fact that mud prints add a somewhat artistic flare to an otherwise boring rug), and they seem to be obsessed by the idea that things should remain in cupboards and drawers instead of in a pile in the middle of the floor.

But I’ll let you in on a secret about parents which I wish somebody had told me when I was younger: they don’t budge. You can try all the tactics you want (I’ve got several up my sleeve if you need tips), but they remain unswervingly and stubbornly firm in the belief that they’re doing the right thing, whether that be feeding you carrots and peas, enforcing the removal of wet shoes at the front door, or religiously tidying away toys and clothes. It’s a bore, it’s a bother, but they are never going to realise that you are right.

So my advice to you is this: lie low for a bit, do as they say and lull them into a sense of false security that you are obedient. You can start to reason with them in later years, but for now work those blue eyes and the blonde hair if they’re looking for a guilty suspect. If things do get untidy, blame your brother. Or the dog.

Lots of love,

Your Godmother


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