A walk on the wild side...

Nobody tells you that your child can go feral. And, more importantly, nobody tells you how to cope when it happens. Our darling daughter has been teething for the last few weeks, and this seems to be going hand in hand with her spending an hour a day in a somewhat ravaging paleolithic state. We call it the 'wild hour'. It's like Baby meets Tarantino - not one for the faint hearted.

During the wild hour the supreme being forgets her adorable, smiley self and starts to destroy everything in her path. Nothing is safe or sacrosanct. Her once loved friends 'Pink Coo' and 'Polar' get eaten alive, everything in her path is flung across the room, and Mummy and Daddy just hug each other - counting every minute until the madness passes. It really isn't pleasant.

Sanity is normally restored with an early evening nap, which then means that her supreme-ness isn't ready for proper bed till later in the evening. This is obviously also giving us great delight.

Exhaustion sets in after wrecking the lounge

Still, apart from our recent scars and a new reduced sleep regimen, parenthood is going swimmingly. So much so we are off to France next week for a holiday. We can't wait, but am not sure that the French will know what's hit them when the wild hour cometh. Ooh la la...

Videoclip: Learning to walk...just before the carnage began