There are video clips of me on your laptop from when I was two years old. In one of them, you're filming me playing with my building blocks. I'm stacking them as high as I can, and your hand comes in and out of the shot, handing me the next block, ready for me to take it to put on the top. When I'm done, I stand back and giggle at my achievement. I can hear you on the other side of the screen saying things like 'well done, baby!' and 'Britt, come see this!'. A few seconds later you spin the camera round, and Mommy comes onto the screen. She's looks different to what she does now. Younger, but still as happy.
She walks over and sits down, legs crossed, beside me and pulls me into her lap. She's praising me and saying how proud she is of me when I point at you and say 'mama helped!'. Mommy's face cracks into a massive smile, as if she can't believe I'm real. They're not my first words, I've watched those videos – the ones where I say 'mama' or 'mommy' for the first time - and the camera goes shaky because you're crying, but it's like every word I say is something special.
Mommy looks at the camera (or rather, past it at you) and says 'she did, did she?' and gives a soft smile. A few moments later I'm bouncing out of Mommy's lap and knocking my blocks over and start building them again. In the background of the video I'm deciding whether the red block or blue block should go first, but then the screen gets covered by Mommy coming closer to you and it cuts off right after I hear Mommy lean in and say 'I don't know who I love more'.
When I was three, you took me to the park to play. I was on the swing, going the higher than you said I was allowed to but you didn't complain because you were on the phone. When you hung up, you stopped my swing, lifted me out and we left the park. I started crying and hit my tiny fists off your chest because I didn't want to go home yet, but you told me that Mommy was sad and she just needed us to be there with her right now. You sounded sad too, but I didn't know why.
When we got home you set me down and told me to go play in my room. I did as I was told, but I kept peeking out the doorway and saw you hugging Mommy. I heard her crying too. You were holding her the same way you hold me when I get hurt, and you were saying the same things – "I'm here, I'm here, shhh". But she didn't stop crying and that's when I started to get scared. Maybe she was really hurt.
If I get sad, I hug the stuffed unicorn that you won me at the fair when we went last year, and it makes me happier. Mommy likes cats though, so I found Patches, the only cat teddy I have, and walked down the hall to the living room where you were sitting on the couch, with Mommy crying into your shoulder. I tugged on the fabric of her sweatshirt and held out Patches for her. She took it and said thank you with a small smile, then lifted me in between you both and hugged me tight. I fell asleep like that, with Mommy's arms around me and you stroking my hair.
Three days later we all wore black and said goodbye to Papa Pierce.
When I was five, you decided that I was big enough for you to explain some things about the world to me. You let Mommy do most of the speaking, but you held her hand the whole time as if it was impossible for you to do anything else.
Mommy explained to me that not everyone thinks it's great that two girls can fall in love. She even joked that it took you a while to see how awesome it was. You smiled at that, and looked at Mommy in a way that I've never seen my friend's daddy's look at their wives. I've never seen anyone look at someone the way you and Mommy look at each other.
I asked Mommy why some people think it's a bad thing that you love each other. She told me that she thinks people are just scared. When I asked her what of, she just said that she didn't know but told me that I have to be patient with people because maybe they're fighting against something that we don't know about. You looked at Mommy again when she said that as if she was the smartest person in the world. Sometimes I think she is. She explains things to me better than Miss. Holden does at school.
You started talking then, and told me that no matter what people do or say to me that I have to remember that both you and Mommy love me very much and nothing will ever change that. I told you that I love you and Mommy too, and the smile on both of your faces when you heard that is the only thing I'm going to remember if anyone tells me that it's wrong to have two mommies.
When I went to bed that night you tucked me in, but I could hear you talking to Mommy down the hall. She was talking about the trip she had to go on that weekend to Boston for teacher training, and you said that you'd miss her. She kept telling you that it was only for two days, but you kept saying that you didn't care. I didn't hear much after that because I was falling asleep, but the last thing I heard was you shouting excitedly that there was something called Sweet Valley High on TV.
When I woke up in the morning, you and Mommy were still sleeping, lying beside each other on the couch, wrapped up against each other.
We went on holiday for the first time when I was six. The airport was the biggest thing I'd ever seen in my whole life. I held Mommy's hand and we made our way through security. Airports are really boring. There are lots of people in suits and people telling you what you can and can't do. I didn't like it very much. There was a play area in the departures lounge and I ran over to it and started playing. It took me a few minutes to realise that you and Mommy weren't beside me and I couldn't see you anywhere. I got scared and panicked and started to cry.
An airport attendant came over to me and asked me where my mommy was. I just looked at him, confused, and asked which one. Instead of trying to understand, he asked me if I knew the names of the people I was travelling with. I said 'Santana Lopez-Pierce and Brittany Lopez-Pierce', and I think that was the first time I had to think about your smiles when I said I love you to you and Mommy, because he looked at me like I'd said something wrong.
The attendant spoke over a walkie-talkie and suddenly your names were being spoken so everyone could hear. A few minutes later, I saw you both running towards the play area and I ran towards you too. Mommy picked me up and kissed me and hugged me and told me never to do that again. You shouted at me too, but it didn't feel like those times you shouted at me for breaking the vase when I played with my ball inside the house, or when I spilled paint over our new carpet. Those times you were really mad, but this time you seemed to be pretending because you were trying not to smile.
You made sure that Mommy didn't let go of my hand until we got on the plane. And you didn't let go on the other side until we got to the hotel.
I'm seven today, and we had a party at our house. You let me invite all my friends from school, and some of your friends even brought their kids too. We played games all day and then Mommy brought out a cake with candles on it for me to blow out.
She told me that I had to make a wish before I blew them out and that I'm not allowed to tell anyone what I wished for or else it won't come true.
I took a big breath in and blew all the candles out at once and everyone cheered before you took the cake away and started cutting it up so we could eat it.
When Mommy wasn't listening you asked me what I wished for and I told you that I'm not allowed to say because it won't come true. You pretended to look hurt, but I know that you understood. You told me that when you were my age that you wished that you and Mommy would be together forever and that you'd never told anyone that before. I shouted at you because it doesn't matter how long ago you made a wish, it won't come true if you tell someone. You told me it had already come true so you didn't mind, and you told me not to worry.
(I didn't, because I wished that you and Mommy would be together forever too.)