Hmm... so who needs the therapy here:

Me: M, give me back that I need it

Boss: *walking off with a breastpad* No. I need it *Proceeds to lift his top up and says:* Where's my nipple? (I explain) You got a nipple Mum? (Yes) OK. *Finds a cuddly toy and says:" Diss is my baby. *Puts baby to his nipple and makes a smacking noise with his mouth* My baby is having his milk.

*Then, and this is the part that makes me ask the question above, he hurls, with every ounce of power he has in his body, the "baby" on the ground, replaces delicately the breastpad and screams:*

I'M FED UP. I AM FED UP *Begins to huff and puff* DISS BABY DOES NOT STOP PUK-ING! *Goes into manic scream mode* DISS BABY DOES NOT STOP PUKING!!! *Grabs a muslin square and crushes the "baby's" face with rage* I HAVE HAD ENOUGH I HATE DISS HOUSE. IT IS TOO SMALL. *sucks teeth* OH! ARGH! I AM FED UPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!!













Hubby quick to note: "He's doing you isn't he"














Yes, but he sulks like you.