The bite-fest was not an isolated incident. When Jonathan attempted to wipe down his sticky hands and dress him in one of his new outfits, the kid screamed blue murder. He refused to settle or stop until I took over. Then it was all smiles and "Star" all round.

"I don't understand," Jonathan admitted as he took a seat at the table, defeated, as I sat on the floor, yanking the new shirt, a Scooby-Doo one, over the kid's head. It was a bit baggy, but all-in-all, it wasn't a bad fit. "He let me change him yesterday."

"What did you do to him?" I asked. "Cuz he fucking hates...