Bye bye Dig

You might think there would be more to say about waving goodbye to daddy Dig from the London underground platform at South Kensington.

Like the fact that we won't be seeing him for another month. And if the toilet starts flooding I do not know what bit of the cistern to hit with a hammer. Be assured Dig I will Skype you to berate you about failing to tell me that piece of information, no matter what time of night or day.

And Dig, what if the door handle in the office comes off in my hand and I am locked inside again and have to curse you one more time for not reminding me about that particular hazard? Or what if the office burns down because you have left every bloody bit of equipment ON with all the red lights like wild eyes burning and glowing in the dark? Or what if there is some other disaster like the exploding tap, flooding cellar or toilet waste pipe? And the emergencies? What then? Like navigating Shark into an ambulance in the middle of nowhere while you were in the Lebanon?

Sod it. I damn well will cope. Whatever the emergency. Because I am aged over forty and should be able to cope. And while I am holding up the house and keeping everyone's schedules and driving back and forth to lessons and doing the laundry and feeding everyone and staying alive I will also see that no harm befall the little heads of Shark, Squirrel and Tiger.

And after we left you, we went here. To the Science Museum, where to please Shark we patrol the ships, maritime history, navigation and submarine engineering sections before we meet the home ed group to hit the Imax and the Launchpad kid's activities.

Then when it was all over I manage your three kids into a Spaghetti House near Leicester Square, drink a glass of red wine and eat tortellini. Then we catch the train home. I put on the dishwasher, laundry, and see the kids into their beds. But not before I quiz them on the role of hydrogen in the universe.

Once that would have seemed impossible. Which shows how far we have come, and how much I can cope.