A sad day for British journalism
I love that girly girl


Oh, the crushing guilt as I cuddle my confused, crying daughter after she has bitten my nipple for the third time in a row has been only partially diffused by the knowledge (now) that she hasn't done it since. An awful few minutes were endured, during which the question "Will she ever go near it again?" was answered only tentatively by a very sad and sobbing little girl.

It seemed so appalling to be trying to teach a seven month year old girl a lesson by pressing her face in to my breast, even just for a milisecond. But, it did work. And she (so far) seems to have got the message. Only the very occasional nuzzly accidental scrape, which is as NOTHING I may tell you to the agonising PAIN of a razor sharp pair of serrated new teeth being pressed in to some of the most sensitive skin on your body.