"You've just earnt the 'b' of 'birthing partner'"

We had a delicious meal out with Aunt Jane and Uncle Dave last night at the York & Albany.

As we were celebrating Dave's 65th birthday, there was champagne at their house first and then a couple of bottles of wine with dinner.

I was drinking my wine very quickly and would then surreptitiously swap my almost empty glass for Kate's much fuller one, so that everyone would think she was drinking normally.

So surreptitiously, as it turned out, that even Kate didn't notice. It was only in the taxi on the way back home that I told her, lolling from side to side.

And very happily she exclaimed "You've just earnt the 'b' of 'birthing partner'".

I didn't realise that I had to earn my title, and certainly not letter by letter. But it now transpires that I'm not going to be awarded the 'i' until I start proactively applying Dr. Hauschka's body oil to the future bump zone in a bid to avert the onset of stetch marks.

I'm starting to feel like some of the fun of this pregnancy malarkey is being chipped away at.