4 month old baby + Feb 14th = a murmured, sleepy 6.30am "Appy, Valentine's Day love" before Dave scuttled out to work.

Walking to Betty's room, greeted by a suspicious smell, I discovered that my daughter, sensing the sentiment of the day, had felt the need to provide me with a gift. Having never actually pooed the bed before, I suppose I should have been touched. Carefully peeling away her soiled pyjamas, she smiled adoringly up at me, as her eyes proudly whispered: "You're welcome Mum".

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