Babe: 3 years and 1 month
Babeling: Expected in 5 weeks

Autumn is a scary time of year. First it goes dark very, very early. Then out of the darkness and onto your doorstep come strange people wearing bandages and grotesque masks and red flashing horns, sending you screaming upstairs. Then your parents keep you up late one night to park you in your buggy in a dark field to terrify you with the loudest bangs, screams and whistles you have ever heard, accompanied by pretty lights you never see because you are wailing with your eyes tightly shut.

Poor child. The fireworks seemed like such a good idea at the time.

‘She’s not bothered by loud noises,’ I said to people confidently, waving aside suggestions about watching from outside the park to see what she made of it from a distance. £15 pounds and ten minutes later, we were wheeling her out again. (Chilled mum got her son to wear ear defenders, and he was fine, so there’s an idea for next year.)

This morning she came out of nursery clutching a picture created from a toilet roll, an ice lolly stick, black card and lots of glitter. It looked very, very much like a firework.

‘You’ve made a beautiful firework!’ I gushed, hoping this was art therapy to exorcise the trauma of Saturday night.

‘It’s a banana,’ she said firmly.

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