Somebody gave Jamie a whistle at micro rugby yesterday, a development I was unaware of.
That was until around 6.30 this morning when he arrived in our bedroom to deliver a brief statement, as follows:
"I've got a whistle. When I blow my whistle, that means I want something."
Sometimes, as a parent, you question whether you've got everything right.
This morning, at around 6.30, Vanessa and I questioned whether we'd got everything right.
