Short but Sweet

All is quiet in the house of Jessop. Our little clockwork terrorist sleeps. For now. Come 0522 she rises from the gloom shrieking like a Banshee, demanding sausages and beer. If only those blessed clocks hadn't gone back.  Damn you farmers, Scots and school children or whoever is to blame for messing with time. Idiots. What was 0630 became 0530, what become ordinary became extraordinary rendition.   

Oh Beano - you are breaking us. But you are so lovely. Really so very lovely. She really is. I mean she truffles around like a little baby strongman, all rippling tummy and arms looking for loo roll to destroy, stairs to climb or havoc to raise. All the time mumbling and bumbling all matter of errant nonsense to herself and to us. She can identify both noses and ears and also geese. I told you she was lovely.

Walking remains beyond her grasp but she will grasp it and when she does any straws to which I was clutching to that she was still a baby will disappear for good. Sometimes I return from work, I'm confronted not by a baby but by a teenager sat in a high chair such are her expressions and silliness. Before long you too will be on the brink of tears listening to the Archers whilst doing the washing up wondering how you got here. 

Enjoy. B at her finest. Even in the laundry bin. Hopefully come the next thrilling installment she will be sleeping to a civilised hour and strutting around like peahen. Or more likely a little chubby Nellyphant.

1000 yard stare

Smiler

Running Bean.

Confessions of an Opium Eater