It's official, I'm a bad mother.
The festive period always sees Matt bringing home tins full of yummy chocolate biscuits and the afternoon ritual of a nice brew and a few biccies.
Over the recent holidays Mini Cheddar picked up on this ritual and delighted in lingering around us like a baby bird with her mouth open or saying in the most high-pitched of voices "Mummy, can I have a biscuit...puuuurrrrllleeease?".
On one of these occasions a couple of days before Christmas she had a biscuit.
She ate it immediately.
Yes, she takes after her Daddy.
I, on the other hand, was savouring mine. I placed it carefully beside me whilst I waited for my cuppa to cool off a bit.
I see her clearly from the other side of the room.
She spies my untouched biscuit.
I watch her make her way over to me in the cutest possible way. Head slightly bent at that adorable angle and those gorgeous eyes of hers full of mischief.
"Yes darling" I reply, fully expecting what her response will be but she surprises me somewhat.
"What does that say?" she points at the wording on the chocolatey delight.
Then I not only surprise her. I surprise myself.
"It says MUMMY. That means only I can eat it".