Half Term

G is as miserable as a wet day in, well, Saddleworth. Her first couple of teeth are now poking through the gum at the bottom of her mouth. I'd show you a picture, but she spends most of her time running her tongue over the area in a mixture of confusion and distress. Last night's crying was pretty bad, but it's probably no worse than the kind of whingeing I produce whenever I've got toothache. And her little mouth does look very sore.

It's half term this week, which means a lot of the parent-and-baby activities I've been taking her to aren't running. By lunchtime, and already fed up of being in the house, I pushed G into Uppermill during a break in the almost relentless drizzle (an essential part of half-term just like when I was young, it's good to see things remaining the same in such a fast-changing world). The village was full of miserable and bored looking kids getting soaked and wondering what to do with themselves. As I started to walk back home the rain returned, but at least G didn't get wet, as the picture above shows. But no matter how snug she looked, I wouldn't swap places with her if it meant inheriting her toothache.