You know that gif from Avengers where Bruce Banner explains his secret is that he's always angry? That. But for our dishwasher needing to go on.

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We've been co-sleeping over the last fortnight while teeth break. But, after two solid weeks of pain and effort, Piglet is now the proud owner of a full, extra half of a tooth.

Just 17.5 more teeth.

At this pace, that's 8 months' worth of calpol.

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Months ago we bought a secondhand high chair and gave it a paint. Unfortunately, being hipsters we chose a chalk finish that Piglet could peel off and eat. On Sunday I eventually got round to stripping it so we can use it again.

Feeling pumped from all the grass I'd killed with white spirits, I went to collect and fit a bike seat for her. We took a pedal across the moor and ended in an unplanned beer garden visit. First time in a pub since February.

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Living with a toddler means living with misadventure. I've started a mental clock for when I'm going to step on deadly Duplo and plunge back down the stairs.

Barely had I started the clock when I was beaten to it by Piglet. She wanted to play on the stairs unsupervised and reaching out to restrain her led to her pulling away and missing a step. The second from top step.

Two things will stay with me. Her pleading expression of confused terror as she fell, thudding to the floor. And the break in my own mythology that I can save her from these things.

I'm a disgustingly self-confident optimist. Even nightmares can normally be turned around with a bit of impudent cheek. In the dream where Piglet is falling, I always catch her. But real life punctured that with pinwheeling gravity.

Being small and mostly made of fat, the extent of the damage was a barely perceptible egg on her head from the stone floor. Which didn't lessen the panic while trying to discover broken bones in an inconsolable toddler.

The next day was spent at Lǎolao and Lǎoyé's. The stream of photos of her enjoyment calmed my fretting. I can't save her from life, but we can surround her with love and kindness. Which is about the best we can hope for.

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We feasted through mid-autumn festival and marked the passing of time by packing away Piglet's baby toys. No more rattles or Fisher Price Circle of Neglect®. Replaced with puddle-jumping wellies and a rocking chair. Our living room—for one night only—is free of her stuff.

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I sneezed while wearing a facemask. It was deeply unpleasant.