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Do you ever get those moments when you look at your child and think, “I’m only just getting to know you”?

I have them. Every. Single. Day.

Especially at the moment. I look back at those snuggly, sleep-deprived newborn days and remember how I used to hold my milky baby close to me, drinking in the smell of her head as she snored on my chest. During those weeks I thought I could never love anyone or anything as much as I loved that tiny creature.

But I was wrong.

Because that tiny creature has turned into a bundle of energy, sass and attitude. That tiny creature has blossomed into a lanky toddler with a laugh loud enough to fill any Olympic stadium. That tiny creature is now a little girl, with likes and dislikes, a sense of humour and the ability to articulate what makes her cross.

As every day passes our conversations develop so that I get to know my daughter a little more each week. I know she has a mischievous streak and will run barefoot across stones to avoid bedtime if she doesn’t feel like it. I know she likes to eat sausages with tomato ketchup now – and tomato ketchup alone. I know she loves new clothes, especially ones of the dressing-up variety. And books – she can’t get enough of them.

The other night at bedtime, Frog threw a massive wobbler. Screaming and thrashing around and kicking, my two year old railed against me, the woman trying to make her go to sleep. After five minutes she stopped and looked up at me through a mist of tears. “I angry Mummy,” she told me. “I sorry Mummy,” before leaning down and giving me a kiss. She’s never done that before.

I like this blossoming flower. And I can’t wait to find out who she’s going to be next week.

Frog, this time 2 years ago.

Frog, this time last year.

Frog, now.