Way back in December, when Samuel was just 8 weeks old, James had to go to America with work. It had all been carefully arranged before Samuel came along.
'I'll be fine!' I'd said, gurning like a clueless, pregnant idiot. 'My mum will be staying with me, and after all, we're bound to have the baby in a routine by then, aren't we?'
Fast forward to his first night away and I'm crying, wild-eyed, into my iPad. My hair is pointing in 23 different directions and I'm howling at him over FaceTime:
'You will NEVER go away again! If you ever, ever leave me with a baby again I will BOIL YOUR HEAD!'
I pause momentarily to wipe away some snivelly snot and a thought occurs to me.
'You'd better bring us some bloody good presents back.'
And he did. This posh romper was Samuel's gift. At the time Samuel was as tiny as a doll as it looked so enormous. I couldn't ever imagine him growing big enough to wear it. But here he is, six months on, looking smart and spiffing and stripy. James goes away with work again in a few months' time. I think I'll be able to manage now. I'll try not to boil his head on his return.