If Noah was a worm, we'd say that he has turned.

Once upon a time, four weeks ago, we had a baby. We called him Noah. Oh, here he is now:

He was very nice boy and just sat and cooed and pooed and slept.

And he knew how to make his Mummy and Daddy melt in an instant.

Whilst he sometimes looked sad, he loved his car seat and bear hat.

Even at bedtime, he was a little cherub.

Then it changed.

Now Noah's always saying things like, 'Where's my milk, Mummy, you bitch?!'

Or, 'Are you just going to let me sit in my own shit all day Daddy or do you think you'll change my damn nappy sometime this century?'

Noah, you've changed.