Babe: 2 years and 10 months outside
Babeling: 5 months inside

We had a break in Devon with Nanny, Welsh babyaunt and family, a proper break in which we didn’t even see the babe until 8.30am every day because she was sleeping in Nanny’s room. (In case you are not familiar with us and think we have paid help, Nanny is her grandmother.) There she was every morning at breakfast all smartly turned out and all we’d had to do was roll out of bed and turn up. Bliss.

The babeling took the opportunity to GROW. He grew while I was eating my first meal at the hotel. No, really. I couldn’t finish my food, I couldn’t look at dessert, and I had to go upstairs and be a beached whale on my bed. My girth expanded by about a foot in a single evening. I have been reliably told that I look as pregnant now as I did at nine months last time.

There’s still room in there though – generally I can feel a solid bit of baby under my skin, but just when I want to prove it to someone else he disappears altogether and there’s nothing but jelly to prod. Where he gets to is anyone’s guess. Somewhere he can’t be prodded, possibly. I do have a new party trick though. I lie down on my back without giving the babeling prior warning and he’s left perched on top of me, curled up like a cat. It looks a bit odd, but we can get our hands most of the way around him – and finally babyfather gets to prod him too.

Cold feet