Mother plays hardball

Elephants fear them. So does the Gruffalo. It is because they understand the power of the mouse.

It is a power I have come to understand. Revere, even. But unlike the elephant and the gruffalo, I am not afraid.

Glorymouse, you are tough. But I have news for you: I am tougher.

You see, I have dusted off my copy of The Contented Little Baby Book* and there are going to be some changes around here. You are going to go a minimum of 3 hours between feeds. If you fall asleep on the job I will undress you and tickle your ears until you start sucking again.
You will have regular nap times in your cot, and if you don't settle you will be left to cry.** And Glorymouse, meet Dummy; Dummy, Glorymouse. You already know each other, but you are about to be best friends. And I have 80mls of lovely milk in the fridge which Daddy will give you at 10pm tonight, after which - please - sleep for a good four hours. If you can manage five, I will dance a jig, video it and post it on this blog.

OK? Love you, little girl.

*the parents' equivalent of the nuclear weapon
**I crack after 5 minutes.