Fearless at Four

One of the things you hope from your little ones is that they grow up a better and more refined version of you. You want to take all your good bits, clean and tart them up and put them back into your children. Then banish the bad bits and add some extra snazzy, sparkly stuff. My issue is I'm a wimp. Sure I'm quite gobby and have no problem talking in front of hundreds of kids. Or writing a blog post that doesn't paint me in the best light. But.

I'm scared of things. Not like snakes and spiders. I'm scared of the fun things. I'm not a fan of heights. Or rides. Or anything with a small element of I MIGHT DIE. OK slight overreaction. I'm not a thrill chaser and weirdly it is something that holds you back. I was always the one on school trips to Alton Towers holding the bags in the rain whilst everyone else went on Nemesis. But my girl?

She. Is. Fearless. She runs. She jumps. She climbs. She laughs. She screams. She's there. In the midst of it. Not being afraid. And in return? She's made me a little less afraid. She's made me want to push myself so I can be a better me. I may climb up the odd climbing frame or jump on the odd ride in a theme park. She's took one of her amazing bits and put it into me. And for that I am forever grateful.