Flattered

Today’s picture is provided by my delightful eight-year old. She spent almost an hour working in secret, making us close our eyes for a grand reveal before asking “Well, do you know who it is?”

I should say that at this point, the picture had no title – if it did the question would have been easier to answer and possibly would not have led to the ensuing discussion.

“I don’t know, Santa maybe?”

“NO MUM!! It’s clearly you; look at it, I put the double chin in and everything!”



On the plus side I noticed that she had used blue for my hair.

I recently decided to move away from the comfort of varying degrees of red, burgundy and copper for a promising “Cosmic Blue”… what I have, however, is black. It’s a nice black rather than the dull, dry shade you tend to get with dyed hair but a bright, bold, ‘clingingtomyyouth’ blue colour it ain’t.

She knows that, though, and has clearly acknowledged my will to be seen as a funkier more youthful version of myself.

“Thank you for making my hair blue, at least!”

“Well, I didn’t really – just that it’s chalk – there isn’t a black is there!”


So here I am, warts and all. Not that I have any warts… thankfully… although you can be sure baby will be letting everyone know should I ever grow any – or acquire them – not sure how you refer to the onset of warts.


Thankfully I have now been deleted from the chalkboard in favour of a poll:

DINNER: Fry-up vs Carbonara.

Three votes each… I know you are confused now; how does a five person family make for six votes? Since I refused to choose one child over the other, baby put a vote on each side on my behalf. So carbonara with sausages, baked beans and fried eggs then.

Interesting indeed.