By now I’ve definitely reached the conclusion that little ones rarely do anything other than keep us on our toes. This was proven recently by Lyla questioning why I was wearing Daddy’s trousers when I put on a pair of boyfriend jeans. And, Theo looking at me with disgust during the Easter bunny hunt as I called him my gorgeous little boy, before crossly exclaiming that he is in fact, ‘a dinosaur’.

Talking of being kept busy, my hairdressing skills are under close scrutiny at the moment thanks to the elaborate updos featured in Frozen. Never have French braids seemed so complicated. Although, Lyla and Theo’s unique rendition of ‘Let It Go’ more than makes up for the plait predicament – safe to say, they outdo the original version.

The day to day happy chaos reached new, terrifying heights on Monday night when Mr T became unwell. Hearing him in pain two hours after he fell asleep, it quickly became clear something seemed wrong. Soon it became apparent that an ambulance was the safest, most cautious option. It may have been the combination of blankets and over-heated child piled on top of me, plus the backwards facing journey after three Creme Eggs, but I’m not sure I’ve ever felt so sick.

He finally fell fast asleep, right before we reached the hospital. Pulling into A+E, I could feel the anxiety rising. That, and the guilt about his mis-matched pyjamas with fetching Weetabix pattern. It also probably wasn’t the best night for T to be wearing Disney Princess pull-ups which I’d found stuffed at the back of Lyla’s wardrobe. Then, just as we were about to get out, Theo sat up, looked around bright as a button and said ‘Ooh Mummy, we’re here.’ Challenge complete – parents firmly shocked out of our Bank Holiday wits.

We’re now happily all back to the school run, hair dilemmas and intense dinosaur discussion. Minus the heart-stopping fear, to be honest, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Maybe this T-Rex just had a few too many chocolate eggs.

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