Well it's taken a week, but we've finally started dressing her in pink. It's all very well to pretend you're not offended by the four different people who saw her in black & white on the maternity ward and immediately assumed she was a boy, but there comes a point when you have to give in to a bit of gender stereotyping. We don't want her growing up with a complex.

Personally though, I'm more worried about the fact that at seven days old, she's already as wide as the Moses basket. I think she's got the fat gene like her Dad.

Anyhoo, we're taking Amelie out this afternoon to meet her three little boy cousins. We need to get them bonding early because I'm relying on them to beat up any man who wrongs her in the future. The youngest is already a bit of a bruiser, and he hasn't even turned three yet. There does seem to be a bit of confusion about precisely what happened in that hospital last Thursday morning though. He apparently told his mother yesterday that "there's now two Lisas". It's a thin line between reproduction and cloning.

But in other family news, Big Sis had her final flying exam in Perth this morning, and what's more, she passed it. Well, most of it. So congratulations to her. To be honest, it's a miracle she was even there, because as everybody knows, Big Sis lives her life in the wacky world of sit-com. So rather than just studying hard and taking her test like any normal person, she chose to prepare for the big day by eating an avocado she'd found in the boot of her car, giving herself food poisoning, and throwing up for forty-eight hours. It's like she's living the plot of Airplane!.