Lauca was a really difficult baby.
But fast forward on oooh, say seven years in the future.. that difficult baby turns eight years old and you are dragging your tired self home from work one evening and you ring ahead to ask if you need to stop at the shops to buy something to cook everyone for dinner:
Lauca: “No, I have already cooked dinner”.
Me: “What on earth did you cook?”
Me: “What did you put in it?”
Lauca: “Whatever I could find in the kitchen”.
When I walked in the door that evening I found her lying on my bed reading a novel while the pie finished baking. So wonderful. And then on the weekend she woke me up with breakfast in bed. She had found a recipe for Greek yoghurt pancakes in her cookbook. Finally, that evening she asked me to show her how to cook a roast. My god.