You're cramping my style!

The journey to nursery is often telling....what mood is she in today?

It's three months now since Grace moved out of the baby-room at nursery and it's still something that looms over me every time I drop her off... what will today be like? Clinging to my leg, reaching her arms up for me are common, tears are getting less frequent (thankfully), and fortunately the full on tantrum is rare. There used to be none of this when she was a Pixie in the baby-room.

The other thing there used to be little of, was her pointing to the door telling me to go. Her face tells me she's fine. I'm not in a rush to go as our timing was spot on this morning, I have time to chat to another Mum about children's parties. Grace points to the door again, nodding for me to shift it.

I'm clearly cramping her style.

The Travelling Toilet Roll

I must have the patience of a Saint. After buying loo roll at the Co-op this morning, Grace, who got out of the wrong side of the bed, procceeded to drag the pack everywhere with her. This seemed to cheer her up. Until she developed an attachment to it.

Trying to pry it out of her clutched fist was futile, screams echoing across the valley to Lincolnshire no doubt. After catching an old couple eyeing me suspiciously as I tried in vain to shoe horn her into the car while still clutching the loo rolls, I decided just to concede we all take comfort in different forms. That pack of 9 has been dragged round the village, play group, the station, the post office. Everyone is giving me odd looks.

The comfort for Grace is quilted.