Mothers make parenthood all so easy… we are blessed

My dear Snapdragon, I am incredibly blessed to have you as the mother of our four-year-old daughter.

And I don’t say this because it’s appropriate two days before Mother’s Day.

As a matter of fact, there’s hardly a day that I don’t appreciate the privilege to admire your dedication to motherhood.

When I look at little Egg, I can see so much of you in her. She’s a complex, abrasive little free thinker, just like you.

That bright little thing has even got your exceptional brain. (I know this for a fact, because I still have mine.)

She got the mousey, unremarkable colour of her hair and the above average size of her nose from me, but you contributed the good things: the thickness of her hair, the way her eyes sparkle and then narrow into slits when she laughs, the disapproving wrinkles around her nose when she discusses my behaviour with you.

When I fell in love with you, I so wished I could duplicate you as only one of you is not enough for this nasty world.

When I look at our daughter, I realise we have done just that. And most of the credit for this little miracle has to go to you.

As a father, I do nothing less than my best but, deep down, I know my own contribution is a mere fraction of your dedication as a mother and a role model.

There wasn’t a single moment during the past four years that I was worried about our little girl, because I knew she was with her mom whenever she wasn’t with me.

You gave me a beautiful little daughter at an age where most of my schoolmates became grandfathers and grandmothers.

But you also gave me so much more: peace of mind, pride and the knowledge that I had the most capable, dedicated pair of mother’s hands beside me to make the huge responsibility of parenthood one of the greatest pleasures of my life.

There is no doubt in my mind that the angels smiled on me the day the universe decided to send you to me.

And when they sent little Egg a mother, those angels sent one of their own.

My dear Snapdragon, I’m looking forward to many more years of raising our impossible offspring with the best mother in the world. I’ll call her Mini You. Your fellow-parent.

Dirk Lotriet.