Knock, knock. Who's There

me, that's who. After my daughter locked me out of the back door. In the cold winters evening as I wore a t shirt, as I nipped out to put the rubbish out as my wife was upstairs changing the giant baby.

As I knocked on the door my daughter, being ever the fount of initiative then disappears to help out. She then appears at the back door, squishes her face against the glass and smiles, a knowing smile, a proud and clever smile as she then attempts to help daddy by opening the back door by using a plastic fork to try and turn the lock.
At this point she then disappears to tie some bows around the legs of the boys highchair, while smiling at me. Cold is obviously defeated by making bows!

I knock on the window and she ambles to the door again. I say to her, 'go and get mummy'. She smiles again, and repeats parrot like, 'mummy' and them I stand and watch through the window as she then approaches the downstairs baby gate. Picks up her ikea step places in front of the baby gate and then swings her leg up and attempts to climb over the baby gate. At which point I start banging on the window saying, 'don't get mummy!' at which point she starts shouting for mummy which seems much safer. Then a few moments later, down comes mummy.


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