They hand you this precious, tiny bundle, and they just expect you to know how to keep it alive. There’s no handbook for being a parent, but nothing prepares you for those first few weeks of sheer panic.
Dear Santa, I'd love an unshared biscuit. It doesn’t have to be a chocolate one. I draw the line at a rich tea, but a plain digestive would do. Untouched by sticky fingers. Or at least unlicked.
I am sharing my story in the hope that next time you put your cup of tea down, somewhere you think is out of reach, remember Jack, and put it a bit higher.
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