I WAS having a day off. "Go on sweetheart," said my husband, "go and enjoy yourself. You deserve it.' And I had to agree. I did deserve it. Work and looking after our son leaves me knackered.

"Anyway," he shrugged, "looking after him is easy. Nothing to it is there champ?" He looked at our son and winked at him.

He, in turn, looked at his father, tried to wink back and fell off his bike in the process.

Just as his mouth crumpled into a yell, I ran out the front door with a quick "byeeee" and jumped into the car.

"Ha," I muttered wickedly, "hope he does a pooh too so he'll have to change his nappy as well."

I quickly scolded myself for being so peevish.

But then admitted that half of me wanted it all to go horribly wrong, just so my husband would know how hard I really had it, and the other half of me was worried sick as I saw my son running around, bare bottomed and starving because his father couldn't find the nappies or open a tin of spaghetti hoops.

Still, the thought of being able to shop solo, to try on clothes without holding on to the arm of a squirming toddler at the same time -- even paying for goods and being able to open my bag with two hands -- was liberating.

Ah, my bag. Yes I could use two hands to open it but its contents were very much a "mummy's" bag.

Example: Pre son bag contained mobile phone, credit card, lipstick, perfume.

Bag now contains mobile phone (complete with jam fingerprints)), credit card (over limit due to purchase of new buggy etc) lipstick (minus top), perfume, toddler wipes, spare nappy, bottom cream (son's not mine), mini snacks, Lego block, little man from truck, Calpol, Karvol, juice cup, fermenting apple, cotton wool balls, nursery rhyme cassette, Maisie book, spare vest for son and a couple of scraps of "unidentified goo".

However, apart from acute lumbago due to carrying all this around, I still had two hands with which to shop.

Back at home, I'm pleased to say, things had run as smooth as silk. My son not only had a nappy on, but it was clean and dry.

He was fed and watered and happily watching his Percy The Park Keeper video.

My husband however was slumped comatose on the settee with a glazed look on his face.

"Piece of cake ......" he muttered a little unconvincingly.