The three year old insists on getting about in so many layers of dressing-up clothes that she primly insists I accompany her to the loo and hold all her clothes up at armpit level to stop skirts/dresses/capes/tiaras/necklaces from falling into the bowl. This bathroom duty, along with her fussy dietary restrictions, emotional outbursts, door slamming, claims that I’m not her best friend one minute then that I’m her best friend in the whole WORLD the next, and outrageous demands; teamed with my utterly depleted bank account and soaring feelings of inadequacy makes me feel like I’m Maid of Honour for a really short Bridezilla. Every. Single. Day.