Photo by Natalya Zaritskaya on Unsplash

My six-year-old daughter snuggled up to me and wrapped her arms around my neck. “You’re my favourite,” she whispered into my ear. I didn’t argue, I felt a twinge of pity for my husband, how could he compete?

Of course I was her favourite, I spend more time with her, and well, that mother-child bond is made of strong stuff.

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