Since beautiful baby has arrived she has managed to achieve quite a lot. She has completely ruined my figure, (clearly it was she who had a craving for pizza not me) she has managed to get me to expose my breasts to the postman, the milkman, and very nearly my father-in-law. She has also managed to reduce me (a cynical, sarcastic almost middle aged woman) to an over enthusiastic, baby gurgling, obsessed mummy. Seriously if you come within 50 yards of the house I will entice you into the front room and insist that you spend hours looking at the 500 photos we have taken so far and then force you to stare at her whilst contorting your features into various expressions in order to make her smile, I will also force you to endure listening to me talking in baby speak and my personal favourite talking through the baby to you; i.e. ‘so does mummy’s friend want a cuddle, does she, oh yes she does.’
Car journeys, I used to love them. In fact at uni I was known to love them so much that I would go for a pootle. Pootle being grab a friend jump in the car and drive around randomly until you get lost then find something to do. It was on my pootles that I enjoyed a day at a wild owl sanctuary, found several fab country pubs and went rock climbing.
I am starting to worry I may have an addiction as I find myself again in yet another soft play centre. Albeit this one is a slightly classier joint as it is in a garden centre and the menu offers slightly more than chips, chips and chips.