I'm sad, too.

Ruby and I have a pretty rigid bedtime regime. It's wash, teeth, pyjamas, milk, story (or two, depending on time) and bed. Recently, she asked me to hold her hand until she falls asleep; it's become part of our ritual and rarely do I feel more blessed than when I'm watching her drift off.

There are occasions though, when tiredness kicks in - for both of us, I suppose. Ruby will kick out or worse, hit me in frustration - I will get cross and the naughty step will come into play; I will hide around the corner feeling wretched (good old parental guilt) while Ruby screams blue murder, before I relent and sit with her, explaining that you don't hit the people you love, and who love you unconditionally in return.

Tonight was one of those nights. After settling her in bed, I sat at her side, holding her hand. She was staring at me, unblinking:

'What do you find, Mummy?'

'What do I want to find?'

'Yes, Mummy'

'Peace - I'd like to go to sleep and wake up with no worries, I suppose.'

(I'm fairly confident that this wasn't the answer she was expecting - although to be honest I don't think either of us understood the question)

'Peace. You bit cross and sad, Mummy'

'I was a bit cross and sad, yes'

'Because I hit you'

'Yes, baby - that makes Mummy sad because Mummy loves you very much'

'I'm sad, too'

'Why are you sad?'

'Because I hit you'

We had a big cuddle, and she turned over and went to sleep. I'm a mess. I want to wake her and tell her that there's nothing she could ever do that would make me love her any less. Welcome to parenting. Friggin' roller-coaster.