Why do baby shops turn the thermostat up to a heat comparable only with the CENTRE OF THE EARTH?!
As if dressing a four-month-old-baby in enough layers to survive the current Antarctic blizzards of the South Coast isn’t enough, entering every shop now involves a frantic rendition of baby pass the parcel… A coat, two cardigans, hat, gloves, scarf and a leopard print footmuff later, my daughter returns to a normal colour, leaving me free to wrestle with my own rapidly moistening clothing whilst attempting to keep my dignity at the same time (although to be frank, most of that went out of the window during childbirth).
The entire episode is made more irritating by my short-wearing husband whom I previously mocked for baring his legs in April… To make myself feel better I decide we need an entire new colour scheme for the nursery and a £350 high chair. Who’s smug now.
