Sneaking down stairs with a slightly whimpering baby to prepare the bottle. Talking away to him about everything you're doing like a softly spoken, high pitched commentator on The Great Milk Race.
It's a beautiful moment in many ways between parent and child.
Ooh and who's that at the window? It's Atticus the Catticus! Shall we let him in and say hello?! Shall we?! ShallweshallwesayhellotoAtticusssss?!
And so I found myself at 2 in the morning with a hungry wriggling baby under one arm and a wriggling cat with a mouse in his mouth under the other.
I'm not sure which of the three of us was crying the loudest.
If only that cat could hunt milk bottles. Yes.. Ifonlythatcatcouldhuntbottlesofmilkywilky..