THE clock is ticking relentlessly towards grandfatherhood and I have to admit that I’m warming to the idea, despite receiving a Father’s Day card addressed to “Gramps”.
I suppose it could have been worse - it could have been “Grumps” - but I’m just not ready to be a Gramps yet.
Nevertheless, I’ve been getting into practice with the next door neighbours’ grandchildren, Alexander and George. I invited them into the garden for a game of “hunt the gnomes”.
We have a couple of outsized gnomes – called Ted and Noelle – and I hid Noelle so that her nose was poking out of a bush while Ted was shoved in the hammock with a sheet over him.
Alexander and George were told they were getting “warmer” and “colder” and there was a well-earned bag of Maltesers each when they tracked them down. Alexander and George seemed to love it. So did their Grandad – and he didn’t even get a bag of Maltesers.
Meanwhile, it all appears to be going to plan with the forthcoming extension to our own family tree, which is due to sprout on October 10. So far so good with the scans and all that stuff. The only slight problem is the delicate question of the baby’s sex.
His dad Christopher, alias the Big Friendly Giant (BFG), and mum-to-be Lisa, have been told the sex but my wife and I have decided that we don’t want to know. We never wanted to know the sex of our own children and we want our first grandchild to be a surprise too.
This is proving easier said than done, mainly because the BGF and Lisa aren’t very good at not letting giveaway clues slip, even though they’re supposed to be sworn to secrecy.
Don’t get me wrong, they’re doing their best. They’ve stopped discussing potential names in front of us, apart from those which can be applied to either sex (like Peter and Peta, for example). And they’ve deliberately not mentioned the colour scheme they’ve chosen for the nursery.
But then, in a rash moment over Sunday lunch, Lisa blurted out that the BFG had bought the baby a Batman baby-grow. Now, I’m no Hercule Poirot but that points me in a particular direction.
And then the BFG himself happened to mention the other day that Lisa’s dad is in on the big secret of the baby’s sex.
“Did he want to know?” I asked, slightly surprised.
“No, not really, but he spotted something on the scan,” said the BFG.
Well, I wonder what that could have been? I don’t suppose there was a pink dummy, a Barbie doll or a My Little Pony in there.
Obviously, it doesn’t really matter, as long as the baby’s healthy, but my powers of deduction lead me to believe that we are going to be getting a grandson.

THE THINGS THEY SAY

STUART Wilks-Heeg, senior lecturer and head of politics at Liverpool University no less, got in touch via Twitter to tell me how his little boy Oscar thinks Brexit is short for breakfast.
“Wake up, Dad, I want Bexit,” shouted Oscar.
But Stuart’s favourite so far is: “Dad, after Brexit, are we still allowed croissants?”

FOOTBALL coach Adie Coulson, of Northallerton, remembered the time he was taking a boy for a training session who asked: “Why didn’t they put the soap in the rain so we didn’t have to shower at home?”

LEE Morris, of Darlington, served up a lovely one from his little boy Owen, who described a delicious dessert he’d had as a "lemon gusset"

LAURA, from Darlington, had a tricky one to deal with from her little girl Emily, who’s a big fan of Toy Story. Laura piped up: “Mummy, does Woody have private parts?”

AND Tom Banks, from Durham, was a little put out when his little girl Georgia told him: "Daddy, you're old."
"What makes you think that?" asked Tom.
"Because you're squishy," came the reply.