When I was younger and rowed with my Mum or simply hated the world so was crying, if my younger brother and sister approached me, I would always say I was having a 'funny five minutes'.
My funny five minutes probably ended up being a funny five years, but that's teenagers for you.
Isobel seems to be having her own funny five minutes at the moment.
At nursery I am no longer dismissed with a cheery wave, a 'bye' and a lovingly blown goodbye kiss. She no longer stands at the door to great her playmates with a 'hiya'. Nope instead she is to found clinging to the neck of her obviously lovely mummy. I have to hand her over to a carer for a cuddle, beat a hasty retreat (before I too cry) and pear through the window to make sure I have happily been replaced by toast.
Bath time is not a playful affair. Isobel happily climbs the stairs and once in the bathroom will present me with gifts from every corner, she will merrily wee on the bathroom floor and reach for the loo roll to mop it up. But put he in the bath and she shouts, clinging to the side for dear life she even attempts to climb out. Me, I wash her and her luscious locks as quickly as I can before snuggling her up in her towel like the precious little baby she is.
If I get in the bath too, of course everything is fine. But I like to bath with a glass of wine and not be in my pyjamas by 6:30.
So, is this just a funny five minutes or is it really going to last for five years?!