Minutes after these pictures were taken this fierce warrior stomped off to her room, outraged by some perceived slight, and cried herself to sleep.
We had a quiet evening with just her sister and some blessed silence.
Near midnight, as I was chastising myself for not having gone to bed yet, she re-appeared - dressed and smiling.
'I had my nap Mum,' she smiled, 'I feel much happier now.'
So she had supper, and a bowl of cereal for good measure. She sat at the table and asked over and over, 'Is it the middle of the night Mum?'
A marshmallow for 'pudding', a clean face (I consciously ignored the arms), pyjamas and back to bed.
And straight back to sleep.
This morning it has the quality of a distant dream, and the taste of an exotic adventure. She couldn't wait to tell her sister.
'I was awake in the middle of the night Frieda! I had a marshmallow.'
'Oooo,' says Frieda, 'you were awake in the witching hour!'
'Yes,' she replies breathlessly, her eyes widening a little, 'I was.'