The way mischief dances in her eyes as she taps the spoon on his nose, leaving a smudge of cream on its tip,

The way she huddles, hands in the pockets of her hoody in the cold,

The way she turns and smiles, before diving into your arms at the sight of roses, tulips and carnations that you give her.

The joy as you see her and your child sat in the sunset or playing on the beach, or at the arcades.