Baby Book

This is not a review. Of a product anyway - just of our early parenting incompetencies. Amid the sea of androgyny we purchased pre BB's arrival, we were particularly drawn to a range of Hungry Caterpillar items. I have spent the last week putting together her Baby Book, carefully selecting images which will paint the right picture of the most beautiful early days of her life (i.e. the ones that cleverly mask the confidence shattering, relentlessly exhausting, thanklessly destroying hamster-wheel of incessant wiping on which we unwittingly embarked).

Downton Babby.
Evidence of Boo's ability to appear happy, contented and relaxed. However fleetingly. 

The scan pics in which she paraded about my womb with a convincingly masculine swagger and wittily positioned umbilical cord

Relaxed, rested, carefree (two weeks before due date).
Clearly, all weight gain settled on my Jimmy Hill tribute chin 

Established labour - drugged to the eyeballs and suddenly fascinated with a badge.
That's heroin for you. Alright, alright - diamorphine.  Potato/potarto. An incredibly rare rock 'n' roll moment for me.
Don't ruin it by being all PC

Registering BB's birth.
Look at Dave's debilitatingly sleep deprived glaze.
And my worryingly maniacal grin.
Left in charge of an infant. Criminal.

First official pic. Sold for 1.2 thousand pence (£12) to, well, us.
Wolly cardy thing not covering postnatal paunch as well as I imagined. 

See. It's been a happy, smiley, light hearted, enjoyable few months.

Honest (ish).