I write to you from the fluffiest, most luxurious bed your mother has ever laid your cocoon on. Your dad and I have taken ourselves to Saadiyat Island, off the coast of Abu Dhabi, simmering in the salty waters of the Arabian Gulf. Our friends – and soon to be your ex-pat aunt and uncle, Camilla and Adam – are about to get married right here, on this island, at the deluxe resort, The Park Hyatt.
This pristine island is lined by nine kilometers of natural beaches and spilling ever so elegantly over the whitest of beach sand is our home for the week: The Park Hyatt. Our biggest dilemma each morning, Seahorse, is whether to sea-bathe or to do laps in the pool. Your father indulges all my whims, so it is both: splashing in the pool before breakfast, and immersing ourselves in the salty Gulf waters after lunch.
I know that you too enjoy this Island because all I feel, morning, noon and night, are your strong legs kicking my ribs. Rest assured Seahorse, we shall bring you back to Saadiyat Island. I just ask that you kick your father and not me, when we do return.
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