The Golden Child is now sixteen months old, and is getting the world sorted. Today she came with her brother to after school club, saw me, beamed, and toddled towards me with her arms open, only to veer away to the left because she'd seen something more interesting. A train. Not even a particularly pretty train, just a very small black one. OK.
In our church we have one of those enormous brass eagles holding up the lectern - curved beak, talons, looks every inch a killer. Golden Child pointed it to me on Sunday morning. 'Quack quack!' she said.
Ducks are quack quacks, so everything with wings is a quack quack. Now, that would have brought the Raven Armies down to size. Quack-quacks. Or 'blooming spuggies', as Todd would say. May the Golden Child continue to give us all a sense of proportion for many years to come.