The Middle Way

And so another trip to the Baby Weighing Clinic draws to a close. A trip in which I received a literal pat on the back from the health visitor for maintaining Piglet’s centile, no less. And then a metaphorical slap on the wrist for admitting that I sometimes (OK, maybe every day) feed him Organix…

I appear to have accidentally told someone I hate being a parent.* I am going to Hell in a Handcart.

Sorry.  I just really wanted to use the phrase “going to hell in a handcart.”  It is surely the best thing anyone has ever said, ever.  I mean, THE IMAGES. Anyway, back to the point, I am talking about how, as a parent, you become endlessly obsessed with how good or otherwise a parent you…