Terter or Tertos?

“Nips,” Jack says.

“Huh?” I mumble as I groggily rouse myself out of another Wiggles-induced almost-nap.

“Nips!” Jack shouts.

“Um, nips …?” I sit up straighter, wondering if Lachie and Emma have confused their wiggly after-hours bedroom antics with their Wiggly TV personalities.

“NIPS!” Jack exclaims, beaming, turning to me like he’s the cleverest little boy on the planet and pointing to his baby man-boobs.

“Riiiiiight,” I nod slowly, wondering where the hell he learnt that word. “Yes, those are your nips.”

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The Day I Became a Mum

It’s 10:10pm. I’ve just hauled my weary five-days-overdue body off the couch, foregone the idea of replacing my clothes with pyjamas because if I can’t see my feet, there’s no way I can hoist shorts up over my enlarged derriere, and collapsed into bed fully nude. At this stage in my life, nude does not equal sexy. It’s simply a survival mechanism because I can’t be bothered exerting any effort that will literally be wasted when I change into day-suitable attire tomorrow. There’s just no point. Actually, why am I getting changed at all?

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