Dear Naím,

A few weeks ago, I began putting together a list of all the questions and remarks you make, all those adages of yours that ooze so much wit and raw innocence.

You may be pleased to hear that I even created an e-mail address for you (I can hear the question, what’s that, mum?) and that I am sending regular updates of your little pearls of wisdom, which make me belly laugh and amaze me in equal measure.

Next step will be to give you the password ( don’t worry, it will be way sooner than on your 18th birthday; you wont have to wait that long).

How does this sound? As you can see, mum has already a solid list of rituals, which belong only to you and me.

Writing a tearful birthday note on this creative outlet has somehow became a kind of ritual too, one I am very fond of. I want to call it ritual, not custom or tradition. You will soon learn that your mum never had a soft spot for traditions.

I guess I am right in assuming that this, alongside your very own collection of pears of wisdom I am compiling for our delight, will be a sort of legacy I am passing on to you; one that I hope you cherish and can look back at one day with a smile. I hope you also treasure happy childhood memories of both of us and remember all the noisy kisses, heartfelt embraces and a magical bond which I can only hope will transcend anything life throws on your path.

Very happy birthday to you, my love. Thank you for showing me that the world can be a place to be amazed at when you look at it with no filters and candor. Thank you for showing me what living in the present moment really is about before it became trendy and thank you for always challenging me with your one-of-a-kind existential questions.

I want you to know that no matter the struggles and the obstacles I might trip into, when I look at you I have the absolute certainty that I am the luckiest woman alive. And that nothing else really matters.