I woke up yesterday with sunlight streaming through the window onto the face of the sleeping baby beside me. The spring sun was lovely, but the baby was magical. For the last ten months, the babies have woken us up. This time, I woke up first. Perhaps it was the combination of the reasonable hour to be waking up and my biased mother’s eyes, but his little face was truly as sweet and round as a freshly-podded pea. This is a moment to treasure, I thought to myself, carefully stirring in bed so as not to wake him.

This morning I caught the other baby pushing herself backwards from all fours to sitting; something I knew she could do – she had secretly manoeuvred herself from tummy to upright the day before – but had not yet seen in action. It was so wonderfully exciting to see her understanding how to use her strength and coordination to such good use. How we cheered and clapped when she succeeded. I made another mental note.

I suppose we could be trying to capture these remarkable moments on video. Perhaps I should for their future interest, but I have no real desire for myself. No, these are the moments to be stored up in one’s mind for long family dinners or for idle hours on a park bench or for when my children have children and I start telling them all about how it was when they were young.