Mummy, will you always wee yourself now?
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.’