pic This morning I awake some time just before 7am to the dulcet tones of the Little Mister singing and playing in his cot. I get him out of bed and noticed he’s wet through his nappy, PJs, sleeping bag, fitted sheet and through to the (thank goodness) mattress protector. I chuck everything in the wash immediately and replace his bedding with spares. Aah, nice and fresh. The Little Mister drinks his milk without spilling it and it’s a very proud moment. It’s the little things, y’know? I let him watch a little TV (oh the horror!) while I try to sort out the family budget. The mortgage has just…
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Oh no! There’s a damn baby on this flight!
Pic: There was a baby on their last flight. You can tell. Last week my husband and I became those people. I know I keep referring to the fact that I’m turning into one of them. I think that’s just code for becoming parental units in general. Still, I’m a little in denial. Sure, it’s been 9 months of pregnancy and 16 weeks of baby wrangling but I’m a bit slow, OK? I can’t have gone to the dark side, surely?! So who are those people that I am referring to specifically in this post? Well, my husband and I became the people we used to groan at. The people…