I’ve been told not to wish away these ‘precious’ first weeks with Bub, but frankly, I’m finding it to be a task of endurance rather than enjoyment. Don’t get me wrong, I adore my little wormy thing, I just wish I understood her.

It’s amazing what a huge effect words have, how much easier they can make life. They’re powerful things. It’s only when you’re stripped of them that you come to understand that they say far more than their literal meaning. They say, ‘I am communicating, I am reaching out to you.’

Until Bub gets words, I will continue to find this whole experience very difficult. I love her. I want to make everything perfect for her, but until I can understand what’s wrong, it will be incredibly hard.

In other news, I made my ‘we’re home now’ shopping list yesterday and got all geared up, ready to brave the supermarket. Then realised my keys were locked in my car. At first I was royally hacked off at this but I actually had a great day. The cat brought me a vole, a rabbit and a bird, and Bub and I played on the floor to the best of Don McLean.

And there it was, my childhood encapsulated in a single album. All that time spent in the passenger seat of a Nissan Prairie blaring out American Pie and singing along in an off-key cat howl. Eve 6 said it best, “I crack a window/feel the cool air cleanse my every pore/as I pour my poor heart out/to a radio song that’s patient and willing to listen/my volume drowns it out. Yeah, but that’s ok/I sound better thank him anyway, any day/my voice is sweet as salt.”

I remember it clearly enough that it could have been yesterday – time really does fly.