Babychinos just aren't cutting it anymore.

So I'm in a different room from Chloe, somewhat indisposed.  Okay, okay, let's not beat around the bush, being a mother isn't glamorous so I'll just get this out there - I was sitting on the toilet.  I had the door open, cause really, closing the door on a toddler just isn't worth the hassle. Chloe was happily occupied in the kitchen rearranging the pot drawer.  Or so I thought.  Suddenly I realise it's quiet.  Then I hear her shimmy her way up onto a chair.  A moment of silence.  The scrape of a mug on a countertop.  The sound of liquid sloshing around accompanied by a loud "poooouuur".  I was out of that bathroom in a flash.  The tell-tale brown moustache told me all I needed to know.  The empty cafetiere and half-full coffee mug only served as confirmation.  To be honest, I was pretty impressed with her pouring accuracy.  She barely spilled anything.  Obviously the steamed milks aren't going to cut it when I next go to a cafe, she's gonna want the hard stuff!

Chloe giving me a play-by-play re-enactment, vocals included.