Poppy pops

Dear Poppy,

I have been meaning to record some of the moments we've shared since you were born, but tomorrow you'll be 12 weeks old and I haven't got started until now. You're to blame for that, of course, but now that you have settled into a semblance of a routine, I think I may finally put down a few words.

You should have been 14 weeks by now, not 12. You really didn't want to leave mommy's safe haven and come out into the cold and unforgiving world. Maybe you were afraid. But, judging by your James-Bond-style one-eyebrow raised expression as you were yanked out with steel pliers, your tardiness was more due to a disdain for the world of ordinary people. You seemed to be saying, 'OK OK, so I'm out, but honestly what's the fuss about? You pulled me out for *this*?'

You surfed your way out on about half a litre of my blood, so I wasn't quite myself for the first few hours of your life. So your dad and you spent some quality time together very early on. You fixed your surprisingly blue eyes (given your genetic background) on your dad almost immediately, and he since said he instantly fell in love. Maybe you fell in love too, or maybe you just thought, 'right dude, if I'm going to have to live with you, let me at least show you who's the bosss by crushing you in a proper staring-down contest.' Who blinks loses, and daddy lost that one fair and square.

 Love, Mummy