When it comes to mothering I like to think of myself as one tough cookie, but really I’m a big softie. A big, squishy, caramel-ly softie.

That means, when August does cute things, I melt. And when he cries, I go running. And when he needs something, I’ll jump through hoops to make it happen.

So, tonight, when distressed squawks emerged from under the nursery door, you know mummy went a-running.

August was asleep … but crying. Under a soft light, I could make out tightly shut eyelids and little hands balled up into fists, his face scrunched and red. Oh, heavens above, it was baby bad dreams. Could I make them go away?

I scooped August up into my arms, held him against me. The squawking slowed and petered out and the breathing resumed its normal pace. Bad dreams banished.

My blessed lamb, it just about broke my heart. I hope we don’t see too many of those.