We regret to inform you...

After wrestling a jumper onto my daughter, who likes to think a summer outfit is perfectly FINE all year round, even in weather where we are having to crack the ice off the door jamb before we climb in the car, she did an animated dive onto her bed.

I turned as I closed her cupboard door, asking her in that thinly veiled disapproving-mother voice, "Lolly, you're not going to jump on your bed, are you?"

She looked at me, unable to keep the smile completely off her face. I could see it, twitching at the corners of her mouth, her demeanour mature, calm and deadpan as you like when she climbed to her feet (still on her bed) and broke it to me as gently as she could, "I am, Mum. I'm sorry."

We both gave each other the same face - a look that displayed equal measures of regret, love and 'uh oh' - and she slowly started to bounce, her smile widening as the pleasure hit her in ever-increasing waves.

I kept my 'face' on until I left her room, whereby I crumpled into fits of giggles. The cheek of the kid!