Let the getting-ready-for-bed silliness begin!
What are you dreaming of, little one, that makes you clench your fists so tightly?
Munching ones way through an icy pole is a very, very serious business.
There is no better time to play peekaboo than while sitting on the toilet.
Before you arrived, 7.30pm signalled the end of my shift as chief entertainer/snot wiper/chef/doctor/chauffeur. But you have other ideas, my little night owl.
Life has been so busy that I haven't taken any time to marvel at your perfection. But this evening, as you lay sleeping, I found a moment.