Our Buggy Blogger, mum to J (4), B (2) and S (8 months), is made to squirm and squirm again before discovering the benefits of the 'Macho Mush'.

There's been a definite whiff of Autumn in the air this week. Or in my case, a fetid whiff and Autumn in my hair.

It was one of those delightful incidents that'd make childless onlookers wince. Another little accident, another pair of pants in the laundry basket. But first … look away if you're squeamish … a trip to the outside tap to wash out the encrusted poo.

The offending pants were held aloft between outstretched finger and thumb, all breathing through nostrils ceased, head was turned away at right angles and … wham … I walked headlong into a huge spider's web.

Instinct had me doubling-over forwards grabbing at my sticky hair before recoiling back in disgust, far too close for comfort to the reeking pants. Dignified I was not. The builders from the site at the end of our garden haven't had so much fun in years.

On balance though, being a laughing stock has to be preferable to nearly being lunch. No thanks to my tactless firstborn, I narrowly missed an unsavoury close-encounter of a different kind.

Picture the scene: Pale and freckly yoof saunters past, slavering Rottweiler straining at the lead, both sporting an equally fearsome-looking snarl. "Look mummy" pipes up J loudly "that boy's got nasty chicken pox". Yikes! Not sure if my shrill "You mean that little boy in the buggy over the road dear" was very convincing but I do at least live to tell the tale.

Luckily it's not all been a catalogue of woes this week. Am pleased to report that S, a late developer like all my offspring, has finally conquered sitting – surrounded of course by the obligatory arsenal of cushions in case of unscheduled crash landings.

Accomplishment of this major feat coincided with his first meal of 'beef and two veg' mush. It's almost as though the poor lad's been waiting for his first macho square meal before pulling a physical trick out of the bag. Perhaps if I whiz up a Yorkshire pud in the blender he'll start crawling next week? Or give him a pint of stout and he'll get up and run a marathon? (Must take a look in the Annabel Karmel book to see if she's in on the secret.)

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