‘He has been. He’s just finishing up and then getting everything in the car so we can shoot off,’ I say, putting an arm around both my children and starting our walk home. As we pass other parents pushing prams, I feel incredibly relieved to be beyond that stage. Though it’s tough to admit not particularly enjoying a part of parenting.

When we’re on our road we see Nick up ahead rushing out the front door carrying a crate of alcohol and trying to slide it into the boot of the car which is already jampacked. You’d think we were going away for a week rather than a weekend, but with the body boards and wetsuits loaded in it’s amazing how quickly it fills up.

‘Is that everything?’ I ask when we get to him, reaching up for a kiss.

‘That’s the last of it,’ he smiles, slipping his arms around my waist, lowering his head so that our lips meet.

‘Get a room,’ mutters Barnaby, making Chloe giggle.

‘Talking of rooms, run up and get changed so we can get a move on!’ I say, sending them inside. ‘We’re leaving in five minutes!’ I announce, following them indoors so that I can get myself ready too.

Forty-five minutes later we’re in the car and driving off for a weekend of fun. It might not have taken the old wrestling with socks, shoes and loo-trip negotiations that it did in the past, but my children still need a fair bit of ushering out of the house. They seem to have turned into teenagers already and are extremely slow about getting anything done, even if it’s something they want to do.

Now that we’re on our way, though, I allow myself to breathe a sigh of relief. Work and school are done for the week, now we can go on a little adventure and shake it all off.

Zaza

‘Are you sure you’re OK?’ Liam asks for the dozenth time since getting into the car.

‘Totally fine,’ I say, feeling pretty happy with the weight off my feet and aircon pumping into my face.

‘Do you need the loo? Or more snacks?’ he prods.

‘Honey, I’ll let you know if I need either,’ I remind him. My bladder might be compromised right now but I like to think I can last more than an hour, which was when he last made us use the services.

‘OK …’ he says, keeping his eyes on the road in front of us. ‘But if you want to stop to stretch your legs, we won’t be late.’

‘Liam. Babe. Chill out,’ I say more firmly. ‘You’re going to stress me out in a minute.’

‘Sorry,’ he mumbles, making me feel guilty.

‘It pains you that they’re growing in me, doesn’t it?’