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I’ll never forget the first time Frog smiled at me. A proper smile, I mean. She was about seven weeks old and was full to bursting with milk. Sitting on my knee, she looked me straight in the eye and flashed the most dazzling, gummy grin I’ve ever seen….

I remember this clearly, because I’d been worried she would never smile. Just as with everything else, Frog was the last of her baby peers to reach the smiling milestone.

And today is cause for celebration of a similar ilk. It’s a momentous day. We have reached a truly huge landmark in Frog’s early years.

At the age of 20 months old, Frog has achieved something incredibly special.

We have finally, finally experienced our First Public Tantrum. Joy.

I now know how it feels to be that mother. You know the one. You must see her in the supermarket most weekends, standing forlornly by as her children lie in the middle of the aisle kicking and screaming.

Up until now I had never truly experienced that feeling of hot shame and utter ground-swallow-me-up nausea. I’d looked on with sympathy as other mothers attempted all techniques of tantrum negotiation, from bribery and shouting to the simple art of ignoring the young offender. I’d even silently made judgments about certain methods, noting these parents down as future Supernanny victims, clearly ignorant in the simple art of parenting.

No longer.

This afternoon, Frog pulled an absolute blinder. The tantrum involved a large Next clothing store, a pair of shoes and a disgruntled sales assistant. We left to the piercing screams of, “NO, NO, NO, SHOES, MINE, MINE, SHOES, ME, ME, ME, SHOOOOOOOOOOES!”

I doubt we’ll be going back.

(And yes, she’s still yet to walk.)

Obsessed with shoes