THE clock is ticking relentlessly towards the arrival of our first grandchild and, naturally, urgent changes are having to be made.

Christopher, our eldest and the father-to-be, has moved out of his tiny flat and into a more spacious house, ready for the new arrival, somewhere around October 10.

Normally, I’d have masterminded the removal operation in Dad’s Taxi but, on the day in question, I had to be out of the area on business. That meant younger brothers Jack and Max being reluctantly drafted in as labourers.

Jack and Max aren’t what you’d call a natural when it comes to practical assistance but beggars can’t be choosers. Christopher had precious few alternatives.

I fully anticipated a major fall-out but things didn’t quite work out how I’d expected.

“How did the big move go?” I asked the boys over Sunday lunch the next day.

“Really good,” replied Christopher, sounding surprised. “Jack and Max were actually a big help.”

“Yeah, it was a lot easier sans Dad,” added Jack.

“Sans Dad?” “What’s that supposed to mean? I asked.

“You know,” Max chipped in. “Sans Dad – without you.”

I allowed those two cruel words to sink into my consciousness for a few seconds. Sans Dad.

My thoughts were interrupted by Christopher: “I have to say, Dad, it was a lot less complicated without you. You know, less of a drama,” he said.

It’s not very often that I feel affronted to the point of anger but this was one of them.

“You are a bit of a drama queen at times like this,” Christopher went on.

I thought back to all the times I’ve moved them into halls of residence, bedsits, and flats. How I’ve lumped endless quantities of boxes up and down stairs and, heroically, manoeuvred settees, fridges and TV sets through narrow doorways. And this was the thanks I get – to be told it’s easier sans Dad.

Well, let me tell you, sans Dad is going to become a phrase that’s used a lot more in these parts.

The next time Christopher needs my help - moving furniture, fatherly advice, or baby-sitting – you know what the answer’s going to be: “I think you’ll find it’s easier sans Dad.”

The next time Jack needs a lift into town for a night out, I know exactly how I’ll respond: “I think you’ll find it’s easier sans Dad.”

When Max needs his drum-kit transporting back to university in Manchester in September, I can’t wait to say: “I think you’ll find it’s easier sans Dad.”

The next time any of them need to borrow money…“I think you’ll find it’s easier sans Dad.”

Oh, yes, I think I’m going to enjoy this.

DOGHOUSE UPDATE

IN a recent column, I mentioned two dads, Mark and John, who had found themselves being sent to the doghouse - by their wives, while they were asleep.

Mark was cold-shouldered because his wife had dreamt that he’d sold the house without consulting her. John got a 3am rollicking because his wife dreamt he’d gone to the supermarket and returned with a small bottle of milk instead of the big one she’d sent him to get.

In response, I’ve had a message from dad-of-two Colin, from Darlington, who got a dig in the ribs from his wife in the early hours. She was angrily shouting “Get off, get off.”

When Colin woke her up – strenuously pointing out “I’m not on you, what the hell’s the matter?” - she told him she’d dreamt he’d ridden his bike across the lawn.

“What gets me is that I haven’t even got a bike!” Colin told me with understandable indignation.

• Let me know if you’ve found yourself in the doghouse for a daft reason. Email me at peter.barron@nne.co.uk

THE THINGS THEY SAY

LILLIE-MAE, aged two, was brushing her teeth at home in Kettlewell, in the Yorkshire Dales.

“Don’t forget the top,” Mum Laura reminded her.

Lillie-Mae duly brushed her top teeth.

“And the bottom,” added Mum.

Lillie-Mae again followed the instructions to the letter.

“And don’t forget the back too,” said her Mum.

At that point, Lillie-Mae obediently took the tooth-brush out of her mouth, reached behind herself and began scrubbing her back with it!