The morning drop-offs have gone very well, and the afternoon pickups have been a piece of cake,

Afternoon sex was the best sex of all, Ann thought. Morning sex she'd had enough of in her time: usually it meant, 'Sorry about last night but here it is anyway'; and sometimes it meant, 'This'll make sure you don't forget me today'; but neither attitude charmed her. Evening sex was, well, your basic sex, wasn't it? It was the sex which could vary from enveloping happiness via sleepily given consent to an edgy, 'Look, this is what we came to bed early for, so why don't we just get on with it.' Evening sex was as good or as indifferent, and certainly as unpredictable, as sex could be. But afternoon sex - that was never just a courteous way to round things off; it was keen, intended sex. And sometimes it whispered to you, in a curious way (and even though you were married), 'This is what we're doing now, and I still want to spend the evening with you afterwards.' Afternoon sex gave you unexpected comforts like that.

We ran out yesterday, but we got a drop this morning.

This is a start. It's like eating a piece of cake. There's a whole cake out there to eat. We ate one piece of it today. We have to keep grinding if we want to eat the whole thing.

People will understand that getting a piece of the cake is better than not getting any cake at all.