This is us

Out on a dusk run last evening, CG and I mulled over the baby that never was, i.e. number 4, the one who would have jilted Titus from the throne of the youngest child, would have forced us into buying a people carrier, and increased my stretchmark count by at least 50 percent (apparently the skin is more prone to them with advancing age). He would have been called Magnus (and would have probably been a runt) or she would have been Isolde, would most likely have looked like CG - oh he of the dominant genes - and would have been born in Belgium. I'd say the hypothetical baby has had a lucky escape. Most of all, I am glad that we were discussing his/her non-existence with relief, rather than regret. Much as Titus moons over younger children, there is no doubt that his button nose would have been severely put out of joint by the arrival of another sibling.

It is a strange conclusion to have arrived at, yet quite liberating. This is our family: five crazy, ever-changing, imaginative people who love each other with a passion, despite regular appearances to the contrary. The next people to tear up the house will be our grandchildren. Not for a few years yet though, I hope.