Sheezers. I’ve become one of those mothers. It disgusts me a little.

Once upon a time, I thought gushing mothers who bothered to post photos of ordinary things, or more to the point ordinary kids, were real soft. I even went to the extent of openly making fun of them, at least to my other child free friends anyway. They were always in agreeance with me. On my side. We would never be on that side. But as it would have it, karma that is, I’ve become one of them on that side.

Aside from the Monolo Blahnik’s, I have always thought of myself to be simular to Carrie Bradshaw from Sex and the City, somewhat in style anyway. My ego won’t settle for anything less. Well, Ok… I’ve got the curly hair at least… I’ve also likened parts of my attitude to the cynical, affection/gushy shy, Miranda. So that’s why I feel a tad uncomfortable with this overwhelming warm and fuzzy silliness that I experience on a near daily basis now. I’ve changed. Weakened clearly.

It’s a kid right? Finger painting (first time ever!!) - hardly life changing? Except mine. This kid has bought all the changes. So judge me as you will, judgemental childless fiends.

Just call him Mini Picasso. Have you seen such technique in finger strokes? He has a knack you could say. Not even a messy artist, a characteristic only a Mummy can be proud of/thankful for.

Don’t you love how his colour choices suit his eyes? Now there is a real moment of warm and fuzzy weakness.

Clearly these masterpieces are the first of hundreds to grace our fridge over the next decade. I love that thought. I can’t wait