Girl on swing, Up escalator Oxford Circus

"Push me on the swing," Amy said.

We were in the kitchen. There wasn't any swing.

"There isn't any swing," I said.

"You're stupid!" Amy said. She often gets cross for no real reason these days.

Like when we went to the shops yesterday. "You ask questions all the time! If you ask any more questions I'll get mad!"

I go quiet. I'm scared of asking questions, I know it might upset her. I should be scared of keeping quiet too, it turns out that might upset her as well.

"You're making me upset now! You're always making me upset!"

I don't know what to say.

"I know you're going to ask me questions. When we go to the shops you always ask me questions!"

I knew asking questions wasn't a real problem. Thinking that helped me stay calm. If I stay calm and remember that there's no real problem I'll see her anger attack through, and everything will be fine again. She starts accusing me of 'always' asking her what she likes, 'always' asking her what we should buy. I listen patiently.

"You ask questions all the time!"

I knew where it was going. It always leads to the same thing.

"You're not a good Mum! You don't even like me!"

How do you argue with that? You have to argue of course, and reassure, and do your best to prove it wrong. But you're reasoning with someone who's logic is so skewed, they'll see your breathing as a sign that you don't like them, because you're closer to the air in your lungs.

Back in the kitchen... The 'Push me on the swing' thing. I'm thinking, "What have I done now?"

Was I supposed to play some swing game with her?

"You have a rubbish memory!"

For once I could agree with her.

"You never remember anything!"

Well I didn't remember this, and obviously this mattered a lot.

"It's our secret code. Remember? You're so dumb!"

I didn't remember. Maybe I was dumb. I'd happily agree that I was dumb if that would calm her fury. I knew it wouldn't work. Nothing worked. Neither agreeing or arguing worked, I'd tried both. I'd tried different styles of both many times, calm silences or angry shouts.

Then I remembered!

Amy had had a friend to play when she'd had an attack of the 'I hate yous.' It was one of the first times it had happened, so I'd assumed it was caused by jealousy, because I'd played with another little girl too.

In an attempt to stop it happening on her friend's next vist I'd told Amy that we should have a secret code. A word for her to say in case she felt sad again, so I'd know if ever felt in need of my love or attention. I said, "How about if you say 'muffin.'"

She'd dismissed this idea grumpily, but she thought for a while. I could tell she was excited by this game. Eventually she came up with, "Push me on the swing."

This was a month ago, and she'd never used this secret code words. No wonder I'd forgotten this...

Maybe that she said it was progress? I hope that it was a hopeful sign, that she wants help to love me again, instead of trying to hang on to her strange hate for me.

It would hurt more if I thought I was at fault, if I believed I was doing much wrong. But I've thought and thought, and I can't see what it could be to make her feel like this. Her 'proof' of my badness is always random and ridiculous. So instead I'm just hurt that she's so unhappy, that I don't know why, that she doesn't believe me when I tell her all the time that I care.

Amy smiled as I understood her secret code. I made a game of loving her, hugging her, elaborately fussing as she laughed. Then I whispered to her about secrets understood, and it felt like we were a special gang of two again.

That day she used her special code three times, and each time I tried to show her how I felt. It wasn't even a game. I love her and want to hug her. I just do. So we had a good day, it was my day off. Yes, it was a good day off.

Then morning I rushed to work, late as usual, and Amy watched me from my bed, as I headed out the bedroom door...

"Push me on the swing!" She said.

I was ten minutes late.

"I don't have time!"

"Push me fast." She smiled. "Push me hard!"

I gave her a quick kiss, a tight squeeze. I had to go.

She'd have to swing her legs, push herself. I hoped that with a quick push on the swing she could keep it going on her own.