Maia’s birthday came and went and the whole day is a blur. It was an eventful day, but we didn’t get much time to celebrate our girl. First there was school, then packing for our trip, then visits to the dentist, early bedtimes…it was a mad scramble to get everything done before 7pm, which was our bedtime since we had to be up again at midnight.
There was one moment, however, which was all about her. The last time we went to Paris, she discovered the little nook on the first floor of Shakespeare & Co Bookshop where they keep an old typewriter. She spent an hour sitting at it, typing away lines of jumbled letters (she couldn’t write yet), calling it her office. She’s wanted a typewriter ever since, but I dismissed her requests as one of the many passing crazes children get at her age.
Then she saw these photos on one of my favourite blogs and she decided to direct her pleas to a higher authority, someone who wouldn’t turn her down. She decided to ask Father Christmas for a typewriter next December (together with a guinea pig). That’s when we realised how much she really wanted one, so we decided that would be our birthday present to her. We chose a vintage model from 1955 because it looked far more charming than the 1980s models. It’s a bit harder to use, but exactly what she wanted.
Her first reaction upon seeing that it was a typewriter was relief at not having to wait until Christmas to have one. Now, how do I convince her to forget about the guinea pigs?