Squidge is sporting a rather large bruise in the middle of his head.

This is the result of him taking a dive off our double bed and on to the laminate floor while I was attempting to get some housework done. I honestly thought the middle of a double bed was a safe place to put him.

Apparently not.

After weeks of only crawling backwards Squidge decided that this was the ideal moment to make his first foray into the world of moving forwards, towards something that attracted him on my bedside table.

I’m now suffering from a severe case of ‘Bad Mummy’ syndrome. Symptoms include tearfulness, multiple apologies and the need to spoil your recently bashed offspring with kisses and cuddles and staying up with Mummy and Daddy.

Squidge is fine. He inhaled his dinner, has been smiling and giggling and is currently attempting to pull out his Daddy’s chest hair instead of going to bed. Daddy is currently trying to defend his man rug and also prevent Squidge from watching Breaking Bad.

I still feel incredibly guilty.

The huge bang.

The pause.

The crying.

I feel like such a bad Mummy.

However, he is NOT watching Breaking Bad.

So I can’t be that awful.

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