That’s not my unicorn.

My one year old baby loves the books with textures that she can touch with her little finger. A favourite book of hers is; ‘This is not my unicorn’.

She touches the rough hooves, shakes her head – No…. this is not my unicorn.

She touches the shiny wings, shakes her head – No…. this is not my unicorn.

She touches the fluffy tale, shakes her head – No…. this is not my unicorn.

She comes to the end and sees the sparkly horn, laughs and claps her hands….Yes this is my unicorn.

Now, during quarantine my normal look is pyjamas with untidy tied up hair and no makeup.

Today, I looked at the useless fancy Kurtis in my cupboard and decided I should actually dress up for my husband once in a while. I took a shower, donned a cream lace number by Agha Noor, and touched up my lips with sparkling amethysts by L’Oréal.

I was drying my hair quickly when my husband walked in. It had the desired, predictable effect on him. It had quite an unpredictable effect on my baby. She looked at me, extended her tiny finger to touch my face and then shook her head – No….this is not my unicorn.

P.S. Do I need to say what she did when she saw me back in my PJs at night?

Image by Andy M. from Pixabay 

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