I am not one for the sentimentality of New Year's Eve.
I genuinely struggle with people who feel that because the clock strikes midnight and one day turns into another that all of a sudden the slate is wiped clean, and they can forget mistakes or negative things that have happened. I am the type of person who believes that everything happens for a reason and we should learn from things that happen to us. It is, after all, better to regret something that you did do than something you didn't.
However, as I sit here with my husband pottering in the kitchen and my son ensconced in his cocoon upstairs, I am taken with a surge of reminiscence.
So what happened in 2013 to our little family?
Any huge changes?
No. For us life continued in an average day to day fashion.
With rainbows and snowball fights. Cycling down a one-way path and learning to swing. Eating an ice-cream on the beach in 5°C. Rolling down a bank. Climbing a tree. Jumping from a tree. Frolicking in only pants in the sand and scaling the London Eye. Standing on a swing. Driving a tractor. Going on a rollercoaster for the first time.
Turning 4, 36 and 38.
Collecting conkers. One wedding. Not singing 'Big Red Combine Harvester' on stage. Singing 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star' on stage. A holiday in Butlin's. Another one in Dorset. One in Cornwall too. Several weekends in London. Discovering the importance of cousins. Of siblings. Waving goodbye to a brother as he emigrated to the other side of the world. Enjoying the relationship with the other. Jumping from a moving swing. Squelching in mud. Meeting a shrinking man. Giving Welsh cakes to a short, Welsh man. Swinging on a rope swing. Making new friends. Developing longer standing one.
And did I mention the swing?