Boss Of Me

We're back from G's longest road trip yet, all the way from Manchester to my hometown of Aberdeen and back again. The first thing to say is that people who go on about how having a baby makes everything take longer are on to something. On a good day, with no traffic and some boy racer driving, I've done the journey in five hours. But in wet weather with some roadworks, a couple of long feeding stops for G and plenty of sensible daddy driving, it took nearer eight hours each way. The motion of the car kept G asleep just about all the way there and back though, so it could've been a lot worse than it was.

One of the reasons for going such a long way with G still just a few weeks old was to introduce her to my granny and grandad, her great-grandparents. As you'd expect they were delighted to see her. I was reminded of how my granny, who's 92, was born during a First World War Zeppelin raid, which put G's own troublesome birth into some perspective. As we all sat round and cooed over G, who was at her angelic best, my granny said: "No doubt she's the boss of your household now." There's no fooling her.

As you might be able to tell from the photo, we'd put G into a pink dress for the occasion, but that didn't stop some people at the old folks' home congratulating us on our beautiful little boy. Lots of people with baby girls say they dress them in pink purely so people can tell straight away which sex the little one is. If that's what happens when we put G in pink, maybe we should start stocking up on blue baby clothes.