Essence of Dog

The baby and I are friends again. The whole thing was forgotten about by the time I got back from the pub. I was upset at the time though; I even had a scotch egg on the way home. To anyone not au fait with this particular delicacy, it is a boiled egg wrapped in dubious sausagemeat, dipped in bright orange breadcrumbs and fried. It is served cold, wapped in cellophane. If you find that hard to imagine, think of an ovary wrapped in a testicle and you won't be far wrong.

I don’t know why she wouldn’t take her milk; maybe the bottle was sitting next to the blue cheese in the fridge and she could taste it or something. But it has encouraged us to do something that we haven’t done since before Christmas, that is for Lynne to express some milk in the evening so I can feed her in the morning while Lynne sleeps in. We let it lapse because the baby has started sleeping through the night!

I hadn’t mentioned that had I? The baby has started going to her bed at about half ten, eleven and sleeping until eight in the morning. The rings under Lynne’s eyes have completely disappeared!

Other important news: today Lynne accidentally referred to herself in the third person as ‘mummy’. She was mortified. Also, the baby has a crunchy head. This is a common condition called cradle cap. Like all baby ailments it has a needlessly brutal Victorian sounding name, but all it really is a bad case of dandruff. We tried rubbing baby oils into the kid’s crispy scalp, but the thing that really works is olive oil. The only thing is that this makes the baby’s head smell a bit like dog.

This is ok. I like dogs. Sometimes I rub the baby's tummy as well.