So there's this little girl...
who after several parties, eats too much of the sweet stuff and is sick in the night. Perhaps it wasn't just the sweet stuff, maybe she picked up a bug along the way.
Anyhoo, I go off to London for a full day's work (that's the 6.44am train BTW) and Recaro wakes up with Ellie at the leisurely time of 7.20am (unheard of in these parts). He discovers she's been sick and realises that she's sufficiently out of sorts to go to the childminder.
He's at home, she's at home. He washes the sicky bedsheets. He cleans up her wee - she's lost all sense of focus for potty-time. He cleans up her poo. Poor dab, he's never had to do that before.
He DOES find time to complain to me on the phone. I utter the sweet words of reassurance that he's in charge and must decide what to do.
They nestle down in the big bed and watch Cbeebies (baby TV - no adverts, lots of crafty stuff and signing). She whispers to him (who is hungover and didn't really mind being in bed) 'I love you, heart'.
'I love you' he says. And realises what a great day it's been.
To date, Peaches has NOT declared her love for her mummy. Hmmph. My time WILL come.