I have received an Easter gift (thanks mum) of some very tiny, yet delicious, chocolate bars (Kinder Minis) and with them, a lamb. My new child. Once again I have suddenly been given the responsibility of raising a fluffy creature with a heart of gold that has come bundled with a chocolate product. That's how they get ya. That's where babies come from. I'm a parent now.
It's fine. As long as my child is sufficiently fluffy and is literally unable to not be smiling, I'm okay with it. And of course, the chocolate softens the blow of sudden, unexplained motherhood. I'm planning on raising my little black lamb to be a famous footballer who also writes acclaimed short stories centred on the concept of a sentient and living stripe. I'm very specific in my expectations of my children.
Really I just made this post to show off how cute my lamb is, like a completely normal, well-adjusted adult. Look at it. Look at that face. I'm so proud.