How is it that the sound of running water somehow resembles the sound of my baby crying as soon as I step into the shower?
Yet when I emerge soapy, hurried and bedraggled the crying has miraculously stopped?
How is it that when I'm out at the washing line I can definitely, positively, absolutely hear my baby crying
- only to abandon my precious washing line protocols, fling those pegs on, race inside... and hear nothing.
How is it that the one time I refuse to succumb to the silly Mummy it's-just-in-my-airy-head trickery -
I find that Missi has in fact been crying in there all this time?
Motherhood is a cruel gig sometimes, isn't it?