I had lunch with my daughters Kate and Hannah and their husbands, Darren and Luke on Sunday, and we had a wonderful time meeting the latest addition to our family, Pumba, a black Labrador puppy. Pumba was very well-behaved for a puppy, and very tolerant of our adoration. He took it in his stride (or should that be 'bounce') and having greeted us all exuberently, he fell asleep and stayed there.
Kate and Darren are expecting their first child in the new year, a boy. So there was much discussion around this exciting event. The new arrival will be our fourth grandchild, and he is as eagerly expected as our first.
Ray and I have three daughters, who have grown into three wonderful women. Three children, I read the other day, is the hardest number to raise, and that may be true. I wouldn't call raising any number 'easy'. An amazing, fulfilling, life-enhancing experience, yes. 'Easy'? Not especially.
"Did you have a favourite?" Hannah asked me suddenly, and I didn't quite know what to say. I mean I'd have to say "No!" whether it was true or not, wouldn't I?
I endured years of fertility treatments in the 1970's, and I was one of the lucky ones. So my daughters were hard won, and each was greeted as a very special gift. All adored - the concept of "favourite" just doesn't come into it.,
Or, as I said a couple of weeks ago when introducing Luke to a friend,"I have three sons-in-law, and they're ALL my favourite!"
Take note girls!