I never intended to stop that day. It was the huge orange ‘B’ towering above the shop, drawing me in like a moth to light. Or was it some latent longing I needed to purge? Whatever it was, I just couldn’t resist.
The over enthusiastic assistant appeared from nowhere. A middle-aged, heavily made up lady who was obviously on a commission based salary.
“Can I show you anything,” she trilled. “We have quite a lot of blues and a wonderful choice of pinks.”
“I’m just browsing,” I said, wondering what I was doing here. “Oh, there’s absolutely no pressure, dear,” she ventured. “It’s a big decision. Let me show you what we have.”

Half an hour later I was driving down our street, having looted my plastic, with accessories piled high on the back seat and a perfect baby girl gurgling beside me in the latest backward facing safety seat.
To say I was nervous of my husband’s reaction was the biggest understatement of the century. I was right.
“What’s that?” he screamed.
“A beautiful baby girl,” I replied. “I paid extra for a pretty one. She’s weaned, vaccinated and has a valid birth certificate.”
“Are you mad,” he continued to scream. “We talked about this a year ago and decided to get a dog. Take it back.”
“They don’t give refunds unless they’re flawed. You can see she’s perfect. We’ll have to keep her.”
The blood vessels on his forehead were pounding with rage.
“How much did it cost?”
“Just don’t book a holiday this year.”
At that point he shot a murderous look towards the baby, who in turn gave him the cutest smile and squeal of delight.

Unable to process his conflict of feelings he stomped off down the garden.

“Don’t worry little cherub. We’ll get there,” I said, giving her a tickle under the chin.
Eventually, of course, he came back, appearing calmer. I took my chance.
“Would you please change her nappy while I mix up her formula.” I was pushing my luck here as I had no idea how he would react. Luckily, he got down to the task, but very soon I heard a triumphant shout.
“You can take it back now. Flawed? I’ll say so. This girl’s got a willy!”
I was shocked. I’d bought pink everything. I’d imagined our future girlie trips to the hairdressers, the nail bar, the shops.
“OK. You win,” I said. “But you’re the one who will have to return him.”

Our son is now 21. A strong, handsome university graduate who has brought nothing but joy into our lives, with so much more to come.

I never intended to stop that day.