Gurgles and muffled farts...

Under different circumstances the sight of a 33-year-old man talking utter nonsense and making an array of bizarre gurgling noises would suggest a large amount of alcohol, or that the afflicted individual has been subjected to more than half an hour of Channel Five. In our household, however, it is merely a side effect of early parenthood.

Three months into life as a new dad, I now find myself whiling away hours with my increasingly interactive baby son, mimicing his bizarre sounds (think dolphins with flatulence) and sporting a permanently exagerated Joker-style smile to encourage him to do the same. I am, in fact, reverting to an infant myself, thankfully without the need for my wife to clean my posterior and wind me after dinner!

Yes, it's still hard work - and Mrs B is doing awe inspringly well - but now it's less paniced and more enjoyable.

For the first few weeks of Baby B's existence we lived in constant fear. Is he breathing? Is he tired? Is he hungry? Is he in need of a change? Is he too cold? Is he too hot? Each question dealt with through a combination of fear and ignorance, all exaggerated by often crippling round-the-clock tiredness.

Indeed, even now, whenever I wake in the night and all is quiet, I strain to hear a breath from the cot, unable to drop off again myself before hearing a life affirming rustle or muffled fart. Come the morning, meanwhile, I still see my son's ability to survive the hours of darkness as a miracle worthy of the utmost thanks.

But today, as I sat with Baby B on my lap, and as he broke wind with admirable ferocity, I felt for the first time that our little man is beginning to grow up. He may not be taking his driving test or buying us dinner just yet, but it's a start.

Just don't grow up too fast little man, we're enjoying this too much.