Preparing dinner, my mind on other things, I gradually become aware of an insistent little voice following me around the kitchen,
'Mummy!' It said and then again, more irritated, 'Mummy!'
'Yes?' I answered distractedly, turning around to see from whence the voice came.
Now, I've seen and been asked many things in the last fifteen years as a parent (I SO wish I'd written them all down) but never, until now, a bare bum reversing its way around the kitchen island behind me.
Then Luke's face appeared, peering around his own full moon,
"Mummy, he reproached me, "I've been trying to tell you! My bottom's itchy! I need you to scratch both sides of it for me! "