For the past six months, I've been going in to work with mum for two hours on a Tuesday morning.
In the early days, she'd pop me on a mat in her office.
I'd lie there and look at toys.
And then I'd have a big snooze in the baby carrier while Mum tap, tap, tapped away on her computer.
A few months later...and I was on the move.
Sitting, then crawling around Mum's office.
No problem; Mum just shut the door and kept the bin out of my reach.
Now I'm standing.
And opening drawers.
And dragging the bin down from the bookshelves.
And slamming my little fingers in drawers.
And talking loudly when important meetings are taking place in the conference room.
It looks like my office days are numbered.
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