I’M the very lucky mother of two healthy little girls.
One is feisty, fiercely independent, thinks deeply and likes detail.
But with that comes the sweetest nature and random acts of kindness.
Her little sister and I are always finding letters telling us how much we’re loved - under the pillow, stuck to our doors, on the fridge.
She was responsible for a Mother’s Day breakfast of chicken biscuits, a snowball, ice-cream and a Vegemite sandwich - all served in pretty bowls on a special tray.
The other spends her days playing with her imaginary friend Kellie and designing her latest outfits.
She is happy as long as someone gives her a cuddle, listens to her endless stories and offers to take her out for “coffee”.
In her little world, the sun is always shining - and as a result, I’m told at least 20 times a day that I’m loved to the moon and back.
But I’m not about to start preaching about the joys of parenthood, as anyone who has had the privilege of bringing children into the world knows only too well what that means.
Instead, I ask every parent to do what I’ve done and write down the things you cherish most about your children.
Don’t just do it today, do it every few weeks, monthly or whenever something special happens.
Do it when they say something that makes you tingle. When they say something that makes you want to hide, or laugh.
Or when they just put their arms around you and you want to remember that moment forever.
Because there may come a day when you want to remember, and you can’t.
Very few positives came out of The Chaser’s black sketch involving children with terminal illnesses, but what it did do was get people talking about little people who may not see adulthood.
Sadly, most of us will know someone who loses a child through illness or tragedy at some point in our lives.
And one of the best things you can do for that person is continue to acknowledge their child, to help them remember.
One of my dearest friends lost her beautiful little boy at five months.
But she had the foresight to record every moment of his precious life and the slideshow at his funeral told the tale.
Had she not done that, with four other sons, her memories were certain to fade.
She now has something she can revisit to remember a little boy who changed her life.
And changed the lives of most of those who met and loved him.
Selfishly, I wanted to get home to my girls as quickly as I could after his funeral . . . to hug them, tell them I loved them and to truly appreciate every ounce of joy they had given me.
We all have days where we could quite happily catch the first bus to adults-only land, but gosh, a child’s death makes you realise you’d be back on the first bus home before you knew it.
We never know what the future holds for our children, and we can only pray we are among those who will watch them become happy, healthy adults.
But while they are growing, treasure every moment and take a note of it, so it’s there forever.
You are worried about seeing him spend his early years in doing nothing. What! Is it nothing to be happy? Nothing to skip, play, and run around all day long? Never in his life will he be so busy again - Jean-Jacques Rousseau.
Nicole Ferrie is The Advertiser’s Deputy Editor.