Jack has achieved a creative milestone this week, and has started singing his own made-up jingles and ditties.

I’m of course incredibly supportive of all of this. I think it’s a great sign of confidence with speech and something he clearly loves. Who knows what budding musical star I might have spawned, after all?

But while I’m outwardly all smiles and loving this new creative bent, the timing of his bursts of song has proved testing, to say the least, this weekend.

A case in point was when Jack leapt onto our bed at 7am on Sunday morning, expressing his desire to bake something sweet – for his own consumption of course – through the medium of song. In what proved one of his least inspiring tunes, Jack proceeded to explain his request by jumping up and down on the bed, saying: “Can we make buns? Can we make buns? Can weeee make buuuns?”

This would have been fine all on its own, except for the fact that his enthusiasm for the song soon overtook its purpose. For having answered “yes” in no uncertain terms, Jack’s repetitive chanting continued without falter.

It’s not all bad of course. We’ve had lovely renditions of the welcome song performed above the entrance of Thomas Land in Drayton Manor, which Jack visited last week. “Welcome to Thomas Laaaaand; Let’s all go to Thomas Laaaaaand!” At least this shows an appreciation of a great day out, despite lacking in depth.

His best offering was a corruption of the Toy Story title track You’ve Got a Friend in Me which, for some reason, Jack seems to think is about postmen. But even this lost its charm when, at bedtime, Jack decided to sing it while I was brushing his teeth.

Needless to say, this extended bedtime by a good half hour, which irked somewhat.