Gracious, what was I thinking? Purple is obviously a completely unsuitable colour for knickers. Just because your favourite spoon is purple, I was misguided to assume this preference should extend to undergarments. Lying on the floor weeping is a perfectly reasonable response to the suggestion you might wear such a heinous item to bed.
You’re right: toast should be cut into squares, never triangles. What a shock it must have been to see your snack so grossly disfigured. Daddy was ignorant of the Laws of Toast and got it very, very wrong. You have pointed out his error in a direct and persuasive manner which I doubt he will forget.
I’m sorry for telling you to get on the toilet right now, when your imaginary big sister was sitting on it. It wasn’t your fault that she was taking her own sweet time, and it’s not as if you could have sat on top of her. That would have been awkward. Of course you were upset given my lack of understanding in a complex situation.
The dog should not have allowed her tail to touch the sticker on your leg. Fur against stickers against skin is extremely distressing. No wonder you screamed and lost your appetite for dinner.
I’m sorry the sun is shining on your car-seat while your brother’s is in the shade. It is very unfair and thoughtless of it to do so. No wonder you shed tears at the injustice of life.
I was foolish to offer you a banana when you only like to eat bananas at the zoo.
Please forgive me for speaking to your brother when you were composing a song, thus interrupting the inspired flow. During future song-writing sessions we will remember to wear our soft-soled moccasins and carry out all essential communication in sign language.
I should not have asked you to carry your shoes inside from the car. My arms may have been laden with two bags and a toddler, but I have a pair of perfectly good ears from which I could have hung your shoes – if I was prepared to be a bit more considerate.
Dear Four-Year-Old, thank you for clearly and articulately highlighting my mistakes, lest I ever start to become conceited. And thanks for reminding me daily that I am most certainly not the centre of the universe.
Love from Mummy.