WOEBOT

Amongst many other things, our babies got toy instruments for Christmas. Lulu is generally less interested in them than Sam, who loves them to bits. He has a tiny guitar, and he peels off to a bean-bag and plays it, singing along as only a one year old can. I should add that, although I really adore these instruments (and indeed the entire toy instrument oeuvre-General Strike and beyond) I haven't been hot-housing. When Sam first saw the guitar in a shop with my wife, he wept when she wouldn't buy it for him, and then carried on weeping the entire morning until she she asked him if he'd like it. Then he stopped.

The red piano got damaged on the plane back from Glasgow, I've had to glue it back together, but it's fine. Quite co-incidentally we discovered the batteries on the Chicco electric "synthesiser" had worn out, so that needs fixing too. Dads out there will know about the crucial fatherly role of repairing broken stuff. The Chicco is a great little thing, you can half kid yourself that you've mastered tunes like "Baa Baa Black Sheep" and "Frere Jacques".