The portrait of Dorian mummy

I must drink more water, I’m shrivelling up like a prune, that wonderful pregnancy glow has long dissappeared. We’ve been filming five minutes of the sproglette every 23rd, and as he grows stronger and bonnier, mummy visibly pales and withers in the background.
So more water, I could sink a nice glass of rosé now. Erbie has just gone to sleep in a new blue and white stripey all-in-one, I say new, of course I mean new to me, one of many from a bag of hand-me-ons I’ve yet to sort through that came back from the West country with us.