8am: Wow slept in today. Super hungry, think I’ll need extra Weetbix for breakfast. Horrible discovery! Slept so late I missed Peppa Pig! Parents say she will be on again tonight but can they be trusted?
8.30am: Nan! Pa! They arrived last night on a surprise visit and here they are again with coffees for Mummy and Dad. Think I will drag them by the hand into the lounge room so they can watch me dance to the radio. With the dog.
9am: World has ended. Mummy is having a shower and getting dressed instead of watching me dance. Think I will cry until Dad entertains me with little movies of myself on his iPhone. I am GREAT to watch in action. The camera loves me.
9.30am: The car has stopped. Where are we? The children’s farm? Hooray! I LOVE the children’s farm!
9.32am: I don’t like the children’s farm. A chicken stole my snack and pecked my finger.
9.45am: Why won’t the adults shut up about the peacock? Who cares? Haven’t they seen my chicken?
10am: Why do the adults keep going on about milking the cow. Who cares? Haven’t they seen the cat?
10.15am: That goat got too close.
10.25am: I got this one. Quack! Quack! QUACK!
10.30am: Nan going on and on about geese and guinea pigs. Had to pull her away so she would pay proper attention to the cat.
10.45am: Woah. That’s not Peppa Pig.
11.30am: Lunch time. I want banana! Yay banana! Yuck, banana. Will spit it out. I want yoghurt! Yay yoghurt! Nope, will push that away. Can I play with the lid? Think I want banana. Oh there it is in the dirt at my feet, I’ll just grab it. WHY CAN’T I HAVE MY BANANA? Apple juice! Yay! Actually think I will just put my hands in the cup instead. Raisin toast yay! Blech. There are raisins in this toast. Has Mummy got a milkshake?
12.30pm: Riding home in the car. Sun filtering through the window. Light breeze in my hair. Got my Peppa Pig toy in my fist. Ahhh, so restful.
12.31pm: WHY! WHY! Why do they keep waking me up? What’s with the “not yet”?
12.45pm: We are home, and they want to put me in my cot. NO WAY! I’m not even tired! ARGH I hate this I don’t want to sleep let me outta he— zzzzzzzz.
3.45pm: Aaah, that was refreshing. Think I will call out for Mummy. Hello? That’s not Mummy, that’s Nan. Mummy? Nan says she is out shopping. Dad? Nan says he is out shopping too. Pa? Apparently he is out shopping too! What is this? Think I will cry. Oh wait, Nan is here. Yay! And my dog. And my cat. Let’s play!
4pm: Dad and Mummy and Pa are home and they brought a balloon with them. I LOVE BALLOONS! Let’s all kiss and run and laugh.
4.30pm: Have just pushed my toy stroller with my baby doll all the way up to the Travelling Samovar’s sunny courtyard for iced tea. Ate all of Mummy’s flourless chocolate cake so she ordered another one for herself. Ate that too.
4.34pm: SUGAR HIGH! Excuse me while I run amok for a while.
5pm: Home just in time for Peppa Pig. Must stand transfixed in front of the television.
6.15pm: Just ate two pieces of cheese on toast, a bowl of corn and peas, and some orange. Feeling a bit funny. Not sure how well my dinner is mixing with the two chocolate cakes.
6.45pm: That was a fun bath. Threw the rubber ducks around, splashed Dad with soapy water, stuck funny animal figures onto the wet tiles. Warm and dry now, Dad’s about to get me dressed. Can’t decide whether to cry about this or not.
6.46pm: Hold that thought. Having trouble holding my cheesy toast, vegetables, orange and two chocolate cakes down.
6.47pm: FWURRRRP.
6.50pm: Dad has me back in the shower. Not feeling great. Not smelling great. Why is he washing my hair? NOOOOOO, no water on my head Dad. You should know that!
7pm: Not happy and still not feeling great, but getting lots of good attention from Mummy and Dad. Think I will get Mummy to read me an extra bedtime story tonight. The one about the green sheep. No Mummy, I definitely don’t want my bottle of milk. Just give me a good, long cuddle. Aaah. I love you too.
7.10pm: What? No! I’m not tired! I don’t want to go to bed! Just keep cuddling me. Oh no, she’s putting me in the cot. NOT THE COT! I don’t want to be here. I’m not even tir– zzzzzzzz.
Update (2 Dec): outtake photos from this diary entry, including rather unflattering ones of massively pregnant Yours Truly, are now on my Facebook page
