Hey, children are such a grounding force are they not? Sure I hear you cry; they often let you down in public situations or say the most embarrassing things (about you; probably your bottom or mum-tum) at the supermarket check-out or in a library. But still you look into their big, cherubic eyes and you forgive them. Though I must say there are times I can find it a little harder, to see past their cherubic misdemeanour and have faith that they’ll live, learn and ultimately turn into a great adult. And this weekend it was a little difficult to feel that divine forgiveness whilst the little one was holding a handful of my hair. That’s right; a sizeable handful of hair I really can’t afford to lose. Since her challenging behaviour and life in general is currently encouraging an over-the-top shedding process and I’m already patchy and malting like an abused German Shepherd. A handful I actually debated double-bagging in frozen peas (to preserve the follicles) and taking into the nearest trendy looking salon to enquire about it’s reinsertion. A handful she physically removed with a swift yanking motion. Which in hindsight served me right for being stupid enough to bend down to chastise her for saying ‘you’re just a stupid poo’, in an ice-cream parlour, after I was once again, stupid enough, to part with 15 quid for a ‘real, Italian Gelato experience’ in Wales. Still after a short cry behind my sunglasses on my recent mini-break to Anglesey I sought solace in a ‘New Age’ shop. Here the overwhelming stink of incense, pointless and expensive ‘fairy door’s’, beaded shit and tie-dyed ‘wanky’ crap led me to a poster of Sinead O’Connor. Which reminded me that ‘bald’ can often look foxy on a woman, then as my cherubic three year old slipped her hand into mine and smiled up at me, I could almost hear her singing ‘nothing compares to you’! Though in truth it would more likely be…’you’re just a stupid poo’; either way all roads led to wine on that day.