Life is like a stake-out at home, we are still on ‘milky white incisor watch’. It’s imminent, the excessive dribbling, the fractious disposition and the disturbed night’s sleep… it’s all gathering pace for the first sight of that little protrusion through a red swollen gum – the first tooth.

Oh, how we will celebrate when the first in the line-up shows itself. I am already planning a rota system at night, two hours on, two hours off.

Now, what’s worse than two grown men nursing a cold? I can honestly say absolutely nothing. Both my son and husband have been comparing viral infections; “mine’s more debilitating than yours” goes the conversation.

I suppose it’s the time of year for it – September is a rampant breeding ground for viruses and bacteria, I just wish they weren’t breeding in my house.

Both the men in my life moan, sniff and sneeze just to make their incessant complaining more authentic.

If this is an insight into how life could become in old age with a grumpy spouse then I am going to start learning to play bridge... that’s sure to get me out of the house in those autumn years.

We have been discussing spending an evening away from Betsy, only for a few hours you understand.

Many of our friends have commented that they are surprised eight months on that we have not left her with a babysitter and ventured out as a couple.

She spends the working hours with our childminder so the thought of bringing in more childcare at the weekend seems utterly ludicrous.

Every moment of our downtime means quality moments as a family – however a romantic meal for two wouldn’t go amiss.

We attempted the aforementioned last week, but with baby in tow.

As we sat in a candlelit restaurant Betsy sat up in her pram “taking in” the half a dozen couples gazing lovingly into each others eyes, pushing their prime meat around their plates and looking slightly flushed by the wine. However, it wasn’t Betsy who raised eyebrows; she in fact was a paragon of virtue. It was my husband who caused the gasps.

As we got to the pudding menu, the decision was made after much deliberation to pass on exchanging eight whole pounds for a sliver of sticky toffee pudding dusted with icing sugar and a kumquat.

Betsy had left a good helping of her mango banana and yoghurt layer so my dearly beloved swiped it from under her nose and polished it off at the table as our fellow restaurant goers looked on in disbelief - there was a grown man eating baby food by candlelight… not a common sight in West Oxfordshire.

You would think that I would have got negotiating the pram down to a fine art by now, but on entering a shop in Chipping Norton I managed to undress and send flying the display dummy in one easy step.

The naked mannequin went flying but luckily It seemed to go unnoticed by any passers by. Even the shop assistant remained oblivious to my misdemeanour... at least until now. Whoops!