Surviving the Baby Spice Era: Turmeric Stains and 90s Pop
There's a very specific, aggressive shade of yellow that a pulverized carrot takes on when you enthusiastically fold half a teaspoon of turmeric into it, and I can tell you exactly what it looks like because it's currently permanently bonded...
Sparkle Megan Baby Daddy Drama: A Tired Dad's Honest Take
It was 2:14 AM on a Tuesday, and my eleven-month-old son, Leo, was currently undergoing some sort of mysterious firmware update that apparently required him to aggressively slap my collarbone while wide awake in the dark. My wife, Sarah, was...
How the Baby Jessica Rescue Made Me Fear My Own Back Garden
Tuesday morning, 11:14 AM. Florence has somehow managed to wedge her entire left leg into an exposed drainage pipe near the rhododendrons. I'm frozen in the doorway holding a half-empty mug of lukewarm builder's tea, watching my two-year-old attempt to...
How to Buy a Baby High Chair Without Losing Your Entire Mind
I was standing in the kitchen at a quarter to ten on a Tuesday, armed with a discarded electric toothbrush and a spray bottle of white vinegar, trying to excavate petrified Weetabix from the neon-green piping of a padded seat...
The truth about surviving the baby groot merchandise invasion
I was elbow-deep under the sofa cushions on a Tuesday morning, executing a routine sweep for rogue Cheerios and whatever sticky substance had claimed the TV remote, when my fingers brushed against something hard, plastic, and distinctly anatomical. I pulled...
Why searching for the cast of baby reindeer will ruin your evening
It was 5:17 AM on a Tuesday, an hour that shouldn't legally exist, and my living room looked like a crime scene involving a half-eaten box of oat biscuits and an aggressively smeared syringe of sticky, strawberry-flavoured Calpol. Florence, the...
How I Abandoned Indie Music to Become a Human Jukebox for Twins
Somewhere around the eighty-fourth consecutive rendition of The Wheels on the Bus, you experience a big sort of ego death. I was standing in the kitchen at 6am, wearing a t-shirt entirely crusted in dried porridge, aggressively miming the swish-swish-swish...
The 3AM Kitchen Intruder: Dealing With Baby Roaches
It was 3:14 AM, and I was doing something I explicitly knew I shouldn't be doing. Maya, who's two years old but possesses the demanding palate of a Michelin-star food critic, refused to go back to sleep unless her milk...
Let's discuss the absolute madness of those santa baby lyrics
It was 4:13 PM on a Tuesday in mid-December. The sky over London had been a bruised, miserable purple since lunchtime, and inside the flat, the twins were orchestrating what I can only describe as a coordinated assault on our...