I wasn’t feeling too great tonight and flaked out on the sofa for a galvanising five minute breather.
“Are you feeling poorly, Mummy?” asked Eva, looking concerned.
“I am a bit,” I replied.
“Don’t worry Mummy, I’ll be your mummy.”
“That sounds lovely, thank you!”
“Now, stroke your own hair and talk to yourself.”
Wot, no Calpol?