Extra: Ordinary Moments

Toddler running up hill

A couple of days ago, Matilda let my phone run the software update I'd been ignoring for weeks.

I should know better than to let Matilda near my phone when it's not in Kids Mode; almost a year ago now, she managed to install a pedometer which I can't for the life of me switch off and which keeps patronising me with congratulatory gold stars (you clock a lot of steps when your toddler finds her feet).

Anyway, this software update allowed all of my apps to mess themselves up. Twitter's all out of sequence. Instagram has some terrifying video function. The icon for the camera is an irritatingly different shape to all the others. I feel like such a cliche, frowning and tutting at technology I can't fathom but I liked my apps the way they were and don't like the pressure to prove that I'm young and hip by embracing snazzy new functions.

To make me feel even more like an old lady, the font on my text messages is suddenly twice the size it used to be.

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There are wild raspberries all over our neighbourhood at the moment. "Raspberries" is Matilda's one clear, three syllable word (though she's working on "cardigan" and "cockadoodle") and it got screeched A LOT during the half hour she spent shovelling fruit off the bush and into her mouth; what a revelation that food is just there for the taking, with no child gate or drawer lock in the way.

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We also went for a parent-daughter cake/bag of Kiddylicious healthy foamy things date at Pret-a-Manger.

We used to go for lunch together a lot when she was little. Then she started climbing out of high chairs (I honestly don't know what the straps on coffee shop high chairs are for - they don't contain the child) and I'd be lucky to get my hot chocolate gulped down at all, never mind serenely, whilst smilingly lovingly at my cooing daughter. So it was wonderful to be able to sit in a cafe together again.

I even let her have a taste of my bakewell tart but she spat it back out in disgust.

And she had her second babyccino. The first was not a success but this time she loved it; she looked so pleased with herself, sipping foamy milk from a miniature white mug.

Afterwards, I stacked up the plates, soggy tissues and masticated bakewell tart lumps at one side of the tray and arranged our big frothy mug and little frothy mug next to each other at the other side, carefully placed so the pattern of milky circles showed all around them.

The plan was to strap Matilda into her buggy then quickly snap a picture to commemorate the event. Pret-a-Manger staff are apparently too efficient for arty Instagramming, though; the mugs were whisked away before I'd even unclipped the pointless high chair strap.

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I decided to surprise Steve by getting a plumber round to do some work. Gone are the days when romance meant secretly purchasing Derren Brown tickets and taking him for a meal before the show; now, it's all about towel rails, plastic drainpipes and kitchen taps which don't drip.

In my defense: he gave a genuine squeal of delight when he spotted the towel rail.

We're not slipping into vacuum-cleaners-as-Christmas-presents territory, though. There will always be novelty slippers, marzipan and emergency purchases from each other's online wishlists before we resort to white goods. I might not understand why Twitter has a "search for GIFs" function now but there would be a forced smile on my face if I tore shiny wrapping paper off a handheld steam cleaner.

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Otherwise, life recently has been the usual stream of park trips and... uh... park trips. This week has felt like both the height of summer and the depths of winter but we've made the most of the sun when it's been out and the puddles when it hasn't.

What have you been up?

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