(An ode to subsequent children)
You’re an Instagram baby, he was DSLR;
There are times when you’re not properly strapped in the car.
We binned all the books that suggested routines,
And we ditched the organic and fed you baked beans.
You’re wearing your brother’s shoes, I’m not sure if they fit,
And your white cotton vests are stained with his sh*t.
I may take twice as long to respond when you cry,
But I’m much less inclined to worry you’ll die.
I’m the first to admit we’ve let sterilising slide
And I’d wager your milk’s left too long on the side.
I’ve been a crap mum if I’m telling the truth,
Someone else noticed when you cut your first tooth.
Your first ‘art’ from nursery? I may have had to fake it,
Your handmade birthday bunting? I couldn’t be f*cked to make it.
Its not that you’re second best, I’m just all out of time,
And my evenings are strictly reserved for nice wine.
So our love for you might not be evidence based,
The minimal photos were taken in haste.
But see Instagram baby, who needs DSLR’s?
The proof can be found at the core of our hearts.
**************P.S. I have a new book OUT NOW! You can nab it on Amazon here or in your lovely local bookshop :)