Meet Mo. Mo is the oldest of Mr C’s girls, all of whom moved in with me last month. Mr C left Budapest and moved to hotter, sandier climes. For obvious reasons, the girls couldn’t go with him so when he asked if I’d take them, I was happy to oblige. Admittedly, it had been a while since I’d seen them and I hadn’t realised quite how much they’d grown. I should have copped on when he started talking about my ceilings being high enough, and perhaps the mention of a flat-bed truck might also have told me something, but I wasn’t really paying attention. So, it came as a huge surprise – pretty much what it must be like to find out you’re having triplets, seconds after the first one pops out.
They’ve all taken up residence in various parts of the flat [see the pages for updates and photos] and seem to be adjusting to life as I know it. I have someone to talk to now, and it’s quite remarkable how much more sociable that’s making me! They’re a big responsibility though. Sunday, watering day, involves ladders and a helluva lot of motivation. Ladders and me are not on the best of terms, but we’ve managed without any major incidents so far.
In a slightly scary sort of way, they’re satisfying that tiny little piece of maternal blood that’s still swimming in my veins. I’m rather amused at the pride I feel when one of them sprouts a new shoot (shoots a new sprout? am still learning the lingo) and how worried I get when I see dead leaves. And this after a month! What will I be like when it comes time for them to go to school?