All three of us are sunk into our morning worlds. I am singing little snatches of leftover dream-soundtrack and slinging bits of rockmelon, toast and apple onto high chair and countertop. Ivy interrupts my reverie.
'Hello, Mummy,' she squeaks.
'Oh, hello,' I reply. 'Who am I talking to?'
Ivy has her head at a strange angle. 'I am Ivy's hair!' she sqeaaks. 'I have no eyes and no mouth! I cannot get off Ivy's head!'
I give Ivy's hair a little pat, Teddy watches thoughtfully and we all return to our toast.