M is 5 months and 10 days old. Once I used to know her exact age in days, weeks, hours even. Now I have to work it out, counting on my fingers like I used to at school, complicated by the fact that I often no longer know what the date is. Befuddlement is a common state of mind in our house.
Over the past few months we've come to a compromise, she and I. She is the centre of my daytime world. I am the recipient of questioning looks, playful laughter and unfiltered love. It seems a fair return for such a small investment.