After a particularly late night, lack of sleep and a morning of repeated requests and dubious behaviour, I was feeling a little doubtful of my parenting ablilities.
And ready to climb back into a hole and let them fend for themselves. See how they cope without me then! Huh?
Godzilla, ever the intuitive, came over and gave me a lovely hug.
Then he gave my belly (the one that looks like a boob) a bit of a rub and says “Who’s a good Mummy? Who’s a good Mummy?”
And off he skipped … singing a song about poo and penises.