When I picked up Amelie from nursery yesterday, they handed me the usual daily form to sign, which is basically a legal document recording the number of jam sandwiches she ate at teatime, but on this occasion they'd added some extra info at the bottom. The lady told me that as they never have any problems to report about her (I had to double-check they'd got the right girl), she'd decided to write down something Amelie had said during the course of the afternoon. Which was slightly concerning, as our daughter tends to veer towards the rude side of tactlessness, and has no problem telling fat people that they're massive.

So I read the report with some trepidation, only to find that it said this:

"When you're older, you have to marry someone you like the look of."

Apparently Amelie had made that announcement to her classmates over tea. So I need to have a word with her about speaking with her mouth full. The sentiment, however, was well timed. Today is actually mine and Lisa's 9 year anniversary, which means it's now officially a long time since I liked the look of her.

First liked the look of her, I mean.

Back in 2011, Big Sis congratulated us with the words "I know so many people who have broken up after seven years", but fortunately we still like the look of each other just enough not to have added to that statistic. And with two children to look after, neither of us have the energy to walk out.

My parents vowed that they'd stop celebrating this anniversary after we got married in 2010, but they've kindly sent us the card on the left, which I think is their subtle way of reminding us that despite our outward appearance as a rock-solid family unit, we're still forcing them to raise one of our children. It's only a matter of time before Shimmy drags us onto The Jeremy Kyle Show to blame her life of crime and debauchery on her childhood abandonment issues.

But feline neglect aside, it's a day for unbridled celebration and indulgence. Preferably on the cheap. I e-mailed Lisa from work this morning, declaring my undying love and offering to buy her anything she likes, as long as it's from Asda and costs less than a fiver. She sent me this response:

"Belgian bun and Monster Munch please. I plan to celebrate our anniversary by becoming fat and unattractive. xxxxx

PS: Refrain from sending the reply you want to."

That was easier said than done.