1. I often hear mischief, rather than see it (the ripping of nappy Velcro, or the clatter of a toy falling downstairs, or just a naughty-sounding silence). When I do, I say: "Allll-ec!" as severely as I can. The usual response is a nervous shriek of laughter. Lately, he's taken to declaiming his name in an eerie imitation of my tone. I want to give him a more positive example to copy, so I try saying "Alec" when I'm pleased with him, filling the word with as much admiration and affection as I can muster. He still seems to prefer the severe version, though.
2. It's Saturday, why shouldn't I wear a dress today.
3. We all lie together in the big bed waiting for Alec to wind down and fall asleep. It's warm and dark and Nick and I doze a little.