One minute you’re gently jiggling in the confectionary aisle to keep the baby in the front-pack asleep whilst you go about your shopping. Next thing you know, you’ve gotten a bit carried away with the jiggling, have started singing along a little too enthusiastically to the supermarket Muzak, and you turn to see a small, concerned crowd has gathered. By the way, Countdown, Tina Turner’s “What’s Love Got To Do With It” is an interesting soundtrack choice for Valentine’s Day, no?
Amy: “So, will I drive your car or Daddy’s car when I go to kindy?” Me: “I’ll drive you to kindy! You’re too little to drive.” Amy: “but you said I’m a big girl! And I don’t know how to drive, but that’s ok, I’ll just brrrmmm it to kindy, and you’ll call Daddy and say ‘OHMYGOD! Amy is driving the car!’” I just really didn’t imagine having the “mum, can I borrow your car?” conversation at this stage
In future, I must check that my husband hasn’t answered my call on speakerphone in a room with his workmates when I phone to excitedly report a toilet training milestone.
Experimenting with a new eyeshadow set whilst jiggling a baby netted interesting results. Granted it did provide an updated look, but it’s less “fresh New York chic” and more “girl who drank too much tequila and was woken up by the cleaners in the nightclub toilets at 6am”.
“Daddy, I don’t want cannibal cheese in my sandwich.” Yeah, I’m more of a Brie girl over Camembert myself.
In hindsight, electing to toilet train during a period of my life when excessive consumption of alcohol is frowned upon by the medical community was a flawed and ill-thought-through manoeuvre.
Amy’s greeting upon her grandmother’s arrival today: “Thank god you’re here! I’m REALLY hungry!” The Authorities Will Be Notified.
McPikelets 