As someone who was still getting ID'd at thirty years of age, I give myself permission, from time to time, to act like my mother.
Hence, it's ten to nine in the evening and I'm in my pyjamas already. Actually, if you want the truth, I was in my pyjamas twenty minutes ago and have been thinking about the moment I could put them on since three o'clock this afternoon (its been one of those days). I'm sitting in bed cocooned in my fluffy dressing gown, accompanied by a small drop of Jack Daniel's Honey.
Little O has been particularly trying today, not helped by the fact that my red-cheeked baby has been getting some gyp from his emerging gnashers. Much as I thought I'd nailed it the other day, the self-appointed 'Supermum' status doesn't last long and that tiara slides off darn easy these days.
Ah well. Some you win, some you lose. I mean, how do you explain electrocution to a two year-old?