Elvis has not entered the building

The cot mattress has arrived. The cot sheets and blankets have arrived. The nursing chair has arrived. Booties, hats, sleepsuits and scratch mitts have arrived. The Visa bill has arrived.

The baby has not arrived. One month to go. More or less.

I wonder why cots are no longer called cribs

Time to put the cot up, secondhand from my sister. Apparently her boys all gnawed the bars and rails, like caged animals. There will be an orgy of disinfection, new sheetery and general faffing before the cot is ready for Number One.

I wonder why cots are no longer called cribs. Is there a difference between the two? Perhaps The Baby Jesus now owns the monopoly on the use of the word: "No crib for a bed" © Jesus, 0-2007 All Rights Reserved.

You read it here first.

What, me worry?

We have a cot, a very smart secondhandmedown from my sister. All part of the grand accumulation of STUFF ready for Number One. And of course, it needs to Be Prepared: cue a frenzy of cleaning, wiping and hosing down with Dettol.

At the back of my mind is Sudden Infant Death Syndrome, blamed on everything from foam mattresses to sleeping on the front, so disinfecting seems sensible. On the other hand, when I was born, none of these worries even existed.

Mind you, when I was born BOAC was a mighty and proud examplar of the British Empire. For years we had matching BEA and BOAC flight bags. Eat your heart out Louis Vuitton.

Parentcraft is not taught, instruction is generally resented, and success relies on instinct

Frustratingly unable to tell if I can feel the kicks inside or not. Priti now definitely feels movement, and even reckons she can tell which way round the baby is lying.

All the books and blurbs say that now is the time to start acquiring the kit - the cots, pushchairs and playpens, not to mention the nappies, bottles and clothes. A colleague remarked that having children is still one of life's great experiments. Parentcraft is not taught, instruction is generally resented, and success relies on instinct.

Must must must read the dang books...

Bye-bye freedom, hello cots, playpens, pushchairs

Thanks to a generous younger sister and brother-in-law, whose three boys are now beyond cots, playpens and pushchairs, we are proud owners of same. With the clobber cluttering up the car boot on the way back and now in component parts resting in the hallway, we seem to have made a significant step towards familydom.

In fact, driving back with all the clutter bouncing around, I found myself thinking, "Do I really want to do this. Bye-bye freedom to do as I please, hello faffing around with car seats, school uniforms and teenagers?"

Now this really is hitting home.

Complete travel system

Is it just me, or does the World of Prams not entice any bloke? We looked at mercifully few - sister-in-law with recent sprog having done the hard digging on research - and chose the Pilko Pramette. It is advertised as "can also be combined with the primo viaggio infant car seat to make a complete travel system."

Apart from the silly use of Italian, I would have thought that 'a complete travel system' would be an integrated rail network, or the hub and spoke of a global airline. In which case, £500 would be something of a bargain. Instead, our 'complete travel system' is actually a buggy and a baby car-seat that clips in. Apparently polka dots are all the thing this year.

Farting about in Mamas and Papas (excellent, I mean excellent staff) was great fun, and really brought the whole baby business home. Women of vary degrees of hugeness were teetering, floating or barging through the store. We tried not to gape. If you want to compare bumps and babies, head off to your local maternity store right now, it makes it all REAL!