My daughter's first gay pride

I've been on Pride marches before, and felt the heady glow of walking with people 'like me', full of courage, bravado and, yes, pride. But on Saturday I experienced this anew. I walked with my daughter.  Granted, she slept for most of it, but walking through the streets of my city with friends and thousands of others, with an estimated 75,000 looking on, it was very different. 

Maybe it was because it was the first march I've done in the era of social media, where it seemed that 75,000 smart phones were trained on us, as though the streets were some kind of red carpet. I think mistly though it was because the pride I was feeling was about my daughter - I wanted everyone to know that this was my little girl, and not only was I proud to be gay, but I was proud to be her mother. To be both of those things publicly still feels a little radical, and on Saturday it felt wonderful. 

My lovely girl enjoyed the bits of the parade she was awake for, waving at everyone, especially the drag queens and half naked men. 

Hurrah for Pride! 

20 months later...

Our lovely girl is now 20 months old, and we have been through all sorts of remarkable developments in recent times:

Moving from a cot to a bed - and consequently re-doing sleep training :/

Moving from a high chair to a tiny chair - because she kept climbing out and walking off

Counting from one to ten - not necessarily the right order

Learning colours - but sometimes insisting everything is lellow

Saying no to everything

Hurling herself on the floor and screaming - while I tiptoe away to make a cup of tea

Demanding toast for tea and then looking affronted when we suggest she actually sits down and eats it...

Yes, it's true. We now have a toddler. And I love it!

Having a baby is lovely, but a toddler is so much more fun, if messier (yes, that is possible).