SO another week, another milestone in the life of Ben. Dressed proudly for playschool in his oversized jumper, Ben was packed off to his new pre-school this week.

It brought a lump to my throat watching him walking, semi-uniformed, through the doors of the church hall.

It wasn’t an easy trip there to be honest.

Being as it was only around the corner I thought it would be good to get into the habit of walking there from day one, so we set off with a good 20 minutes to get ourselves there.

However, just before getting out of the door – following a load of pictures of him posing in uniform with lunch box, without lunchbox, full-length, close-up on face and in logo’ed T-shirt etc for various relatives – he threw a spanner in the works.

He wanted to go via scooter. This would be fine if I wasn’t sure he would give up when he hit an incline, as he often does, and then I had the joy of carrying it home, which, at eight months pregnant, would not be the most enjoyable experience.

But, in the interests of a smooth passage on the first day, I agreed and off we went.

The inevitable giving up on a slight hill did come to pass, but not before he whacked into a bush going downhill, prompting a burst of tears and an unnecessary request for plasters, which I didn’t have on me.

He then thought I should take him to the hospital, which I explained was not going to happen as a leaf in the face did not warrant casualty treatment.

Then the blinking scooter broke, which added to the misery, so when we eventually arrived we were both in a sweaty mess and on the verge of tears for different reasons.

Give him his due, though, he did go in without a problem and waved me off without a second glance.

The journey hadn’t gone as smoothly I had expected, we had not held hands and skipped down the street in an excited and harmonious manner, but at least he was in.

The following day, needless to say, we took the car.