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H had a massive cry tonight, totally distraught. The reason?

I told her it was time to stop playing on the iPad. Granted, it was partly my fault as I hadn’t given her a warning before stopping so I deserved the reaction.

From her innermost sadness at one of the worst things happening in her short life (and trust me, I know about bad punishments*) she wailed, tears streaming down her face at the injustice of it all.

Except the wail. She sounded like Tarzan.

Occasionally I speak before I think. This was one of those occasions. “You sound like Tarzan” I laughed as my poor distraught toddler who wanted to play on the iPad forever made the “aaaaAAAAAaaEEEEeeeEEEAAAAHHHaaeEEEEEEEaahhhh” noise, and Shaun burst out laughing in the kitchen.

She did it again. I couldn’t help it, I laughed again. I had to cuddle her if only because I felt so bad I laughed at her like that.

But oh, it was funny.

* bad punishments. At the age of approximately five I had a fashion stencil which you coloured in all those various mid-seventies styles. I was playing ‘Fashion Designer’ and the designs got rejected, so I stuck them in the fire in our front room. The carpet and the designs in the fire (I didn’t think it was on) made contact and I was banished to my room. To this day I remember my punishment for this terrible deed. I was denied Tomato Soup. My favourite soup. I remember that same kind of distraught crying H was probably doing at being denied it. I was a Very Bad Girl. This story does have a conclusion, but it’s probably one I shouldn’t repeat on the internet. Ask me one day if you ever meet me.