She smeared more pea mush in her hair, crowing with delight, and Poppy returned, a frown crossing her face. “Oh, Diana, you just had a bath,” she chided, kissing Francis’ head.
“She’s 10 months old, Craw. She doesn’t understand. Tsk.” She noticed the peas in his hand and raised an eyebrow. “And it’s spread to you. Do I have to bathe you as well?”