Poor Kimber is in the doldrums. Her Daddy started a new job today, having spent the last six weeks at home. With her. Pretty much 24/7. He’s the one who plays with the ball, tussles with her, and sits on the sofa so she can snuggle in. Boring old Mummy merely takes her for walks, feeds her, let’s her out to use the bathroom, and then sits at her computer typing away at silly blog posts and the like. There is, quite frankly, no comparison. For six weeks our household has had no boundaries, no routine, no distinction between week-day and weekend-day. It’s been behaving with a reckless disregard for ‘normal’ behaviour, which has been liberating on one hand, and disturbing on the other. It turns out that a modicum of routine, a smidgeon of boundary, an iota of structure, is actually quite healthy. For our livers if nothing else… So today we’ve returned to normal. But someone isn’t taking it very well.