Here's another sweet family anecdote to add to my Mother of the Year nomination application.
A couple of weeks ago Marianna woke up and came into the kitchen where I was fiddling with Will's school lunch.
"I want to give my daddy a hug," was her opening line.
"He went to work early this morning sweetie, you'll have to wait until he get's home this evening," I said.
"NOOO, I have to give my daddy a hug NOW," she retorted.
"Well, daddy isn't here. If you want we can call him on the phone and say 'good morning'. Otherwise you can give me a hug or wait until tonight."
She was quite for a few moments. Then (in case I had misunderstood her previous requests):
"I WANT TO GIVE MY DADDY A HUG NOOOOWWWWW ... [significant and ominous pause] ... YOU SHIT!"
Look, it's hard to shift blame for my angelic little cherub knowing such words. She would certainly have heard me uttering the odd "shit" here and there. But in my defence I should say that it isn't my fault that the roads are so heavily populated by moronic arsehole shitheads who so obviously found their driver's licences in Corn Flakes packets.
I do need to give her points for using it so well and in proper context. Despite the initial shock I was suitably impressed.
A moment any mother would be proud of.