A Stolen Cucumber

My husband has turned to crime. 

Some days ago he returned from the supermarket and presented me with a stolen cucumber. It isn't that we are in dire need of vegetables and can't afford to pay for them - he had just popped it into the baby's pram basket while shopping and forgotten all about it at the till. 

As crimes go, this doesn't rate up there with the Kray brothers, but it is a sign of how far we have deteriorated. People did warn us back when life was still orderly and quiet. But even though we nodded and said that we understood - really, we didn't. 

My husband and I have become the living dead, existing in a twilight world of nappy changes, three hour meal routines and nursery rhymes that get stuck in your head, forever. Some days I don't even know what day it is anymore, nor do I care.

The real culprit?

And it is not just the lack of sleep. Keeping up with a baby during the day is almost as taxing. These little human beings have a lot of energy, curiosity and a huge desire to explore the world - and it's your job to help them. It takes a lot of oomph, creativity and patience to make Felix's day constructive and entertaining and at the end of it we are as pooped as he is.

Yet I wouldn't change a thing. 

We loved Felix from the moment we knew he was a microscopic blob of cells in my tummy and we will love him as long as we live, and even after that, if at all possible. We will be there for him, always, whether tucking him into bed with snuggle rabbit, stooped over holding his hands, letting him walk and point and discover the living room for the hundreth time until our backs give in, or kissing and cuddling him when he's angry and sore with teething. Of course in the passing we still worry about the bags under our eyes, the laundry not being done, the state of the house and even fleetingly, the stolen cucumber. But those things all pale in significance. Priorities have changed.

And suddenly, there you are at 11pm, looking at yourself in the bathroom mirror. Baby is asleep, the dish washer is humming, your husband has nipped out in his dressing gown and slippers to take the dog for a quick pee. You brush your teeth and wonder idly when you both started looking so much like your own mum and dad.

And you can't help grinning. Being parents to a little person is absolutely the funniest, most weirdly wonderful feeling in the whole world, no matter how tired you are - and even if your husband is a cucumber thief.