I'm late, I'm late

Until recently, I’d always wondered why my friends with children invariably turned up to engagements late. I must admit, I’d always assumed the ‘it was the kids’ line was simply an excuse for not getting ready on time.

Well, now I know different. Leaving the house is, thanks to Harry, a nightmare. Rather than just getting myself ready, I now have to dress Harry and this is not as simple as it sounds. When Melissa dresses him, he gurgles away happily. When I dress him, he screams.

By the time I’ve managed to get one arm in his jacket, he’s managed to kick off his trousers and boots and we’re almost back to square one.

Then, just when you think you’ve cracked it, Harry will suddenly stop screaming and look at you mischievously… and you just know he’s filled his nappy.

And that’s just the start of it. You still have to pack his bag – spare feeds, nappies, clothes, you name it – before trying to get him in his car seat or pram.

Honestly, I’m so exhausted by the time we’re ready to leave, I’m sometimes tempted to cancel. Trust me, the antenatal classes don’t prepare you for this.

Apparently, ‘it gets easier’ with practice. I certainly hope so. If not, I’d like to apologise now for being late for the next 16 years; it’s all Harry’s fault.