Song of the Snail

Welcome to three a.m... Well, 3:17 to be precise. Having been granted an hours sleep while my partner took the first shift, it is now my turn to sit up with the increasingly alert baby who switches between being the most miserable child in the universe to being suzy sunshine herself. At the moment she's happy, and has rediscovered her musical snail roy whose song sounds much louder and almost obscenely cheerful at this ungodly hour. Oh, look at that! She's found out how to make the music play, again and again and again......

We are sitting out in the living room waiting for the kettle to boil as my hips - as well as the rest of my joints - have chosen tonight to do that lovely pregnant twitchy thing where it feels like someone is constantly tickling you in a not fun way and you would pay exhorbitant sums for some magical person to come along and snap them all back into place...

We've added percussion in the form of a tablespoon to the snail's song. She's keeping time by banging it against the table, the floor, any hard surface really. Look mom! Loud noises are fun! Yes dear.... Especially at 330 in the morning...

Mmmmm.... the kettle's boiled. Must run and fill up the hot water bottle. It might not be the same as the joint popper inner, but it's magic is still strong nonetheless. Note to self; Invest in a set of plastic spoons. Much quieter... Easier on the nerves.