I jest, of course. Teeth, in the context of a tiny mouth capable of surprising volume when desired, have never been a particular friend to me, and just lately they have been more than normally hostile. The tiny daughter is teething. Well, to be honest, I don’t think there is ever really a time when I can say that that isn’t the state of affairs; teeth – they loomed on to the horizon when she was about three months old, and mostly, they’ve stayed around since then. Which is a good thing, obviously. I mean, we don’t want them falling out, now, do we? Not when they’ve only just arrived.

Ahem.

Rambling.

Anyway, the point is that the tiny daughter has now got her first big back tooth (top left), and is currently working on its right-side counterpart. This means that sleep is at a bit of a premium in our household; last night I was up four times with her, and as a result I am a bit of a zombie today. This also goes some way to explaining why, despite clearly being hungry, she’s been rejecting lots of otherwise tantalising offers of food – sausages went the way of all things (i.e. down Wixon’s neck), as did sardines on toast and various versions of stews and casseroles. Stewed apple, however, is enjoying a renewed popularity, as are sweet potato and apple, butternut squash, carrot, apple and prune, and apple, sweet potato and blueberry. (Yes – I read the combinations of various posh baby foods in the supermarket, and then I go home and rip them off. And you know what? I am entirely unashamed. Mostly, the tiny daughter eats what we eat (the notable exceptions being the acres of chocolate that I consume in times of tiredness, and the odd pint of rosehip wine which has been known to cross my lips [and yes, I do drink occasionally now - literally not a drop of booze passed my lips while I was pregnant, and it stayed that way until the tiny daughter was about, oooh, nine or ten months, at which point I was getting long enough gaps in her feeds that I felt it was time to fall off the wagon in grand, ginger-wine-flavoured style], but she does like stewed fruit, so stewed fruit is what she gets as afters, normally.)

Anyway, this is largely to say that thank you for the recent comments which I have rudely ignored (except I haven’t, but, oh, you get the idea), and thank you to Mel for the lovely award thingy which I have also consigned to the depths of oblivion (except… etc.), and I will attempt to fill this space with something more interesting than ‘yaaaaaaaaaaaaaawn’ as soon as time and teeth permit. Still to come: cakeage, quince cheese, cob porn pictures and why? oh why? did we decide to build our own kitchen?