Mummy. Mummy. Mummy!

Mummy I’m hungry. Mummy play tag. It was 7:30am! Mummy I need a drink. Mummy I watch Moana. Mummy. Mummy. Mummy! I even had a painter that was round painting my bedroom sarcastically call me Mummy. I once counted 20 plus times in an hour. Why is it always Mummy? It’s never Daddy. Well sometimes but not nearly as much. My husband answered this question perfectly. “If they said Daddy all the time you would hate it”. Of course he is right I would. I love that they need me. I love that they want me. One day I will miss the contant calling of mummy and it’s such a privilege and blessing to be one. So children don’t worry mummy is here. What do you need?