Last week, my mother and her mother arrived from England. With them in the house, Jasper represents the fourth living generation of our family under the same roof, for two whole weeks. It’s a lovely concept, from the outside. Something was bound to give, though.

After all, Carolina and I are first-time parents. Between them, Nana and Great-Nana (as the little man knows them) raised five kids, the most recently three decades ago. And my brothers were twins. So anything we find challenging was at least twice as hard, back then.

Dire warnings are two a penny. An eye infection (minor irritation since his second week that comes and goes), if left to fester – or even if merely treated in the manner prescribed by our pediatrician – could develop into all kinds of sinus problems. Shouldn’t his bottles and pacifier be boiled every time we use them? And on and on.

Thank god for shops and garden centres. I had Sunday alone with my son. Unfortunately it was a scorching, humid day. The eye infection was bothering him and he grizzled and moaned all afternoon. I am never at my best in hot places, coupled with the fact there was nobody to give me any help and I had a ton of work to do.

Compare that scenario with Saturday. I had a rugby match and Carolina had business in town. So we left Jasper with the older generations and headed off for several hours of son-free time in town.

We missed him. At times we craned our necks in the car to see why he was so quiet in the seat (that wasn’t there). It was odd not having to feed and change him during all that time.

But we knew that he was in very good, trusted hands. And that’s priceless. They say you can choose your friends but not your family: I wouldn’t swap mine for the world. Sleep well.

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