To a point

As well as inheriting my grown up face chubby cheeks and chin(s), my baby has inherited some awesome noisemaking skill. More than once I've heard a little something-something and looked to the husband for a guilty face, only to find out it was in fact the baby.

She was delighting me after dinner tonight, being the adorable and animated thing that she is after 9pm, tooting up a storm. Like full on, man volume, baby farts.

Cue the moment when you realise that you baby has just sharted out the side of her nappy and all over your trackpants.

In the newfound optimistic fashion that I have adopted (only other option = cry) I was pleased she had actually produced something, having been a bit 'dry' since she squirted shit all over my pyjamas, the washing hamper, the change table, the plastic floor mat (thank god) and some of the wall yesterday morning.

Babies! Yay!