Who said kids don’t come with an instruction manual? Mine does. I’ve just written it. It’s called ‘Things you always wanted to know about BB but were afraid to ask’.

The need for such a manual comes ahead of our first weekend away sans BB: two whole nights in Inverness, Scotland. I realise this doesn’t sound like the ideal location for a weekend getaway à deux, but the trip happens to coincide with Speyside Whisky Festival. And Misery Guts loves whisky. Need I say more?

So we are leaving BB in the capable hands of Granny and Grandpa, backed up by said instruction manual, just in case. Advice includes ‘cleaning her teeth can be a challenge – it might be a case of pinning her down to get to the back’ and ‘it can take her a good 30 minutes to come round after her afternoon nap, when she can sometimes be a real grump’. Helpful? Probably not. Does putting them down on paper make me feel better? Yes.

Misery Guts can’t wait to go, but with the trip now two days away I can’t say the same. It seemed like a good idea at the time – two months ago. Now the idea of both of us getting on a plane – twice – is filling me with dread. What if the plane goes down? I considered adding where to find all the necessary documents to the instruction manual, but didn’t. I have also considered writing BB a letter, but haven’t. Yet.

Assuming we do arrive in one piece, what if BB wakes in the night crying for mummy and I’m not there? What if cow’s milk from a beaker just won’t do (she has never gone more than 24 hours without breast milk)? What if she wonders where we’ve gone and why we haven’t come back?

In fact I’ve got myself into such a tiz about the whole thing that I wish we weren’t going. I’d rather stay at home with BB, where we belong.

I just haven’t told Misery Guts yet…