I don’t get baby-led weaning. I mean, it’s not like I force feed my babies puree until they’re a year old or anything, but how does it work with foods like porridge, or the eternal favourite – yoghurt? Even at almost two Sebastian’s ability and willingness to eat with cutlery is haphazard, and with yoghurt he makes such a mess (see “Sebastian, we don’t paint ourselves with yoghurt”). Yoghurt is a nightmare to get out of hair, for a start. So constant supervision with the Petit Filous remains vital. How does it work with titchers? Someone please enlighten me.

Today was a super day. Why? Because both Sebastian and his baby sister came home from nursery in the same clothes they left the house in this morning. This hardly ever happens. And the reason for this is that Sebastian likes to paint himself with yoghurt. Or lentil soup. Or shaving foam (from the messy play tray). Or paint. Or mud. One day last week he went through three outfits. Three! No wonder I’m drowning in laundry. But Sebastian doesn’t care about laundry. He cares about expressing himself through the medium of smearing things on his face and arms. Fortunately so far it’s always things that wash out easily…

Very occasionally Sebastian plays nicely with his nine-month old sister. Very occasionally. More often than not, he is taking from her the thing she’s just picked up, hitting her on the head with something, or poking her in the eye with the aforementioned glasses. I am still optimistic that one day in the distant future they will be best buddies. In the meantime, supervising the two of them is like being the ref on that stupid TV show from the 90s, Gladiator. Just with Mr Potato Head’s glasses instead of pugil sticks.

Radiators are not child-friendly. Yes, okay, they are more cost-effective than storage heaters. But honestly. Books and Megabloks and Playmobil 1-2-3 all fit perfectly between the radiators and the walls but are a nightmare to rescue. Plus radiators make an appalling noise when they get hit with wooden toys (and we have lots of those, obviously, as they are ‘better’) which is especially grating on a weekend morning. On the upside, in rescuing the Thomas the Tank Engine book with sounds the sounds part ripped off. Every cloud…

Why does everything have to be a hat? Unless it’s an actual hat, in which case it gets used as a basket, or a hammer. I can’t even remember what it was he had on his head now. A magazine? A cushion? Maybe I should be pleased that my son doesn’t feel constrained by convention regarding appropriate headgear. Maybe he’ll be the next Philip Treacy. But regardless, I would imagine I’ll be saying ‘that isn’t a hat’ and variants thereof for some time yet.