BABIES and toddlers used to annoy me intensely – or, rather, their inconsiderate parents did. How dare these adults inflict their offspring's screams and squeals on me when I got on a bus, enjoyed a meal or even went to a football match?
Whether the noises were of horror or delight was immaterial – they all used to sound the same. But one thing was certain: I firmly believed that children should know their place – safely tucked away in soft-play areas, theme parks or their own home.
Now, that policy has undergone a major U-turn.
The other night a man was struggling to get his baby on to a packed train at Waverley. The pram bashed my shin as it was tilted up the step and the infant gave a gummy grin as it threw a soggy teddy bear to the floor. Did I groan, pretend it hadn't happened or remonstrate with his ignorant father?
No, I picked up the toy, handed it to the harassed dad and smiled as the baby proceeded to wail at being in a carriage full of strangers, all standing up with faces as glum as a funeral.
This change in attitude was inevitable after some of my experiences as a father. One place I could not believe I had found myself in was the mother-and-baby club.
There I was, happy in the knowledge that the other half was enjoying a break (why those precious few hours were being spent shopping and getting a haircut, I don't know), until I took a look around me.
A friend had kindly offered to chaperone me into this world of brightly coloured plastic toys, weak tea and custard creams. But that was not enough when I realised thousands (well, dozens) of under-threes were hurtling around a church hall, at the risk of breaking limbs or even crushing my little treasure.
Everyone, however, was oblivious to the welfare of other children. Until it was time to leave. Mothers have the ability to sit a baby on their knee, dress it and carry on a conversation. I don't. After spending what seemed like hours trying gently to coax tiny arms into a coat while smiling politely, I got the feeling the whole hall was watching me in disbelief. My friend had to leave to pick up another child, so I was on my own.
The arms did go in eventually, but then I had to close up the change bag and put on my coat while keeping hold of the little one. Despite the chill, I was a little red in the face as I walked back down the high street.
Meanwhile, on the train the next night, there was a group of teenagers – now there's a stage I'm not looking forward to my daughter reaching…
• Nick Drainey is Scotland on Sunday's foreign editor and writes Spectrum's Walk of the Week
The full article contains 486 words and appears in Scotland On Sunday newspaper.
