Challenging children have challenging behaviour as does Morgan. He was a lamb really until bullying opened his eyes to being different. It made him realise he didn't fit in and he gets frustrated, upset and angry.
Excluding children from parties is just as hurtful. Imagine not receiving one single birthday party invite all year as you hear your classmates all chatting about the next cool party at the weekend.
You have bags under your eyes big enough for a trip to New York in the January sales. With a good exchange rate to boot. No amount of Toche Eclat can save you from these bad boys. Sunglasses is the only answer. Even if you are indoors.
The work of raising children doesn't seem to be viewed with real respect. If it were, parental leave for working parents would be fully paid, it would last longer, and it would include equal amounts of time for both parents.
Despite the run up to the election dominating the news headlines, many of the parents we speak to say they still haven't heard enough from politicians on the issues that matter to them. They tell us they are frustrated that politicians don't seem to be listening or coming up with the real solutions that they need, and need now.
I don't remember much about the classes except I have hazy memories of very graphic birth flash cards, featuring very ugly, hairy-vagina'd mothers-to-be, often with baby heads crowning out of them. It was the stuff of nightmares.
I'll let you in on a secret I LOVE being a dad, it is the single greatest thing in my life. My partner, other family, friends, hobbies and other loves (reading, music, photography etc.) you are all great (don't be jealous now) but nothing, and I do mean nothing, quite compares to the awesomeness of being a dad.
As the eldest of three boys in a single parent family, the pressure to pretend everything was okay was unbelievable. It wasn't okay, our mother was mysteriously overseas and us boys were very far away from understanding why.
Last night, getting off the tube, I was accused by a group of drunk, loud-mouthed, relatively posh boys of being a 'yummy mummy'. I had heard them shout, "Welcome to middle England!" as the train pulled into the station, followed by, "I bet she's married to an advertising executive!" (wtf?)
I never imagined what it felt like to run on empty for days on end. I never knew my mouth would become full of ulcers because my body hadn't felt proper rest in weeks. I never knew the fatigue I'd feel as a breastfeeding, working mother of two under two.
The stuff that memories are made of: Arriving at Delhi Airport and making our way to the railway station was like being launched into a real-life version of Mario Karts - our taxi lurched through the city amid a maelstrom of fumes and horn blasts, black and yellow tuk-tuks swarming around us like angry bees.
Did I do wrong? I don't think so. Am I betraying my feminist tendencies? Possibly. It's highly unlikely that our afternoon will leave her wanting to be a glamour model rather than a rocket scientist. I doubt that she will be left thinking looks are singularly more important than anything else.
If you think of all the social networks that exist for parents, they almost exclusively exist for the benefit of mums. Whether formal or informal, mums, especially if they have young children, have much greater opportunities to meet, mix and make friends.
You and your partner agree to have an 'early' night. Search the underwear drawer for something other than pyjamas. Options are; nighties (baggy tee shirts), comfortable knickers, two old maternity bras, three used breast pads or a random thong that must have escaped the Great Thong Purge of 2010.
Babies are deceptive by nature. As newborns they lull their hapless parents into a false sense of security by laying perfectly still for every nappy change. However they soon reach their developmental milestones.
A chatterbox is quite happy to talk to anyone about anything. And by anyone I mean; strangers in the street, the ladies in the supermarket and the neighbour you don't know very well. And by anything I mean; what picture they have on their pants today, that Daddy parped really loud this morning, and that "Mummy said our neighbours are very noisy."