I must have nodded again, but I was awake now, and the sensation I had in my back meant Puddin’ was giving me a kick. I tried not to snigger, but I did and of course, Mima woke up.

I suspect she’d been awake for a little while, but she’d lain perfectly still, except I could feel a tickling sensation in my thumb, she was sucking it. “Hello, Sweetheart,” I said to her, and rolled over onto my back. She of course sat up and leant over to kiss me. The kiss was fine, well a bit wet, it was where she shoved her hand while she leant over. My breasts were still sore and I squeaked.

Stella sat up and leant across me to kiss Mima as well. I was beginning to feel like a party wall. Of course, Puddin’ didn’t seem to like being squashed up and complained by kicking me. Give a dog a bad name…

“Come on you pair, never mind slobbering all over me, let’s get breakfast.”

“Ooh, you can be ever so dominant, when the mood takes you,” said Stella in a camp voice, which had Mima giggling.

“And what are you laughing at?” I asked the giggling tot.

“Annie Stewwa talkin’ in a siwwee voice.”

“Well Uncle Simon is coming home this evening, so that should be fun, shouldn’t it?”

“Daddy Simon,” she corrected me, with an expression of irritation on her face.

“Him daddy, you mummy, me Tarzan,” piped Stella in yet another funny voice, which made Mima laugh again then run off to the loo. She grabbed the plastic step stool and after putting it in front of the loo, stepped up, turned around and sat down–weeing through her knickers. Oh well, two out of three, life’s rich tapestry and so on. I had her stripped out of them and in the shower before she could get upset. I was getting the hang of this childcare business.

We showered together–yes, Stella felt left out, so joined us. I did think about inviting the dog. A certain small hand ran itself over my relatively flat tummy, then over Stella’s burgeoning bulge. “Annie Stewwa’s baby,” she said and I watched as she kept her hand there while a ‘shark fin swam’ towards it under the skin. Instead of pulling it away she kept it there and giggled. “Mima feel baby,” she giggled looking really pleased with herself.

“That’s Baby Puddin’,” said Stella.

“Puddin?” she looked at us as if we were certified maniacs, which we are, only I wasn’t aware she knew.

“That’s what we call her, Puddin’.”

“Siwwee name.”

“What would you call her then?” asked Stella.

“Barbie,” came back the reply.

“What if it’s a boy?” I asked wondering where this would go.

“No boy, ‘s Barbie.”

“I think I prefer Puddin’,” said Stella and I nodded.

My breasts were a mixture of dark purple and green but they did feel a little better. After wrapping myself in a towel, I dried Mima, who sitting on the loo as I put her trousers on, stared at my multicoloured cleavage.

“Mummy’s boobies pwetty.”

“Not really, Mima, they are all bruised and sore.”

“Why they saw?” she asked.

“Because you bashed into them yesterday when you bounced off Auntie Stella.”

“Sowwee, Mima bad giwl.”

“No, Mima is a good girl, it was an accident, and they’ll be better in a few days.”

“Sowwee Mummeee,” she said trying to hug me and thereby squeezing the sensitive and sensitised appendages on my chest once again. Some days, I began to wonder if boobs were such a good idea? However, Simon liked them, so maybe they could stay a bit longer.

Stella had left wrapped in a towel and returned a few minutes later. I was at the point of dressing when she told me she had Mima’s breakfast ready and to wrap my hair in a towel as she’d do the highlights.

“Is this a good idea, she doesn’t take long to eat you know?”

“It’s fine, come on, Mima, you’ll sit still while I do Mummy’s hair, won’t you?” Mima didn’t say anything she stood with her hands on her hips and nodded in the emphatic way small children do. “Then, I’ll cut yours if you’d like?” said Stella.

“Yes pwease,” she said and waited for me to lift her into her high chair. Sometimes this child is so good, I want to weep–other times she is so naughty, I do weep.

The morning passed by, with me having new highlights and Mima having a trim. She made faces at the smell of the chemicals but played with her mutant mouse while she waited for her turn at Stella’s hair boutique.

It was two weeks since Simon had last been at home and I felt quite excited. Mima probably picked up on my tension, because she was an angel all morning and a demon all afternoon. I had to shut the dog in the conservatory because she kept teasing her. I had to move the vase of flowers off the dining table after she knocked them down and they nearly landed on her head. She cried and stamped when I made her wear her crash helmet as she tore around the ground floor on her trike. She crashed into Stella, giving her a nasty bruise on her leg.

In the end, Stella took her out for a walk to the park with the dog. I got on with the cleaning and ran the vacuum cleaner over everything–okay, nearly everything!

I had a chicken cooking in the oven by the time they came back and was doing the vegetables. “Oh oh, Mummy’s wearing war paint, watch out Simon.” Quipped Stella as she came into the kitchen with Mima carrying a small bunch of flowers.

“Are those for me, Sweetheart?” I said reaching down to take the blooms.

“No, Mima’s,” she snapped pulling the flowers to her chest.

“Oh, okay,” I said feeling a little embarrassed.

“Are you going to put them in a vase?”

She nodded, so I got a vase out from under the sink and half filled it with water. “If you pass me the flowers, I’ll cut a bit off the ends and they’ll drink more easily.” I held out my hand and she stepped back.

“Mima do it.”

“Can you supervise her, Stella? I’m trying to get the veg on.”

“Sure,” I handed Stella the kitchen scissors and turned back to the sink to finish my chore. I could hear snipping noises behind and Mima held the stalk whilst Stella cut an inch off the bottom. Then they put the stalks into the water of the vase.

I’d just finished doing the last spud, when there was a tapping on my bum and I turned around to see a beaming tot pointing at the flowers. “Aren’t they lovely?” I said turning around and bending down to be on her level.

“For, Mummy,” she said and bent down and lifted most of the unfortunate flowers out of the water, holding them towards me, leaving the vase behind. Stella stood behind her laughing and shaking her head.