Lisa says Amelie's been staring at her all day in open-mouthed wonder...


She thinks our daughter's finally worked out who Mum is. Personally I think she's just spotted the crisp crumbs in her hair.

Actually it's been a tough couple of days for Amelie. When we got home on Saturday night, Lisa fed her whilst eating a croissant. I'm not saying it went badly, but by the time she'd finished, Amelie looked like she'd spent the day at a sawmill. I got her out of bed on Sunday morning, and frankly it wasn't so much a Moses basket as a bread basket. I'm still hoovering up the crumbs now.

It didn't get any better on Sunday night, when Lisa made the mistake of pulling me in for a kiss, just after I'd finished cutting my hair. Amelie got caught in the crossfire, and ended up with more stubble on her face than I had.

But the good news is she had a thorough wash in between. I walked her to the shops yesterday afternoon in the baby carrier, through the biggest downpour of the season. Frankly she's been drier in the baby bath. But the good thing about trudging around Superdrug with a half drowned baby in a sling, is that you get a lot of admiring glances from people who seem endlessly impressed by the sight of a father spending more than thirty seconds with his child. I only went in for some Bisodol tablets, but by the time I came out, I felt like Ian Botham on a charity walk.