“We get so much done in the mornings now,” my wife gloated to me whilst sipping our fourth coffee, after tidying, eating, talking to the family in Australia, then the UK family, making lunch, and checking the time, only just gone 11. “Yeah,” I responded tiredly. “Not sure what we used to do before.” Well, that’s not entirely true. I can still remember a time when you’d just wake up, sit on your phone for a bit, wander downstairs nonchalantly like a bear waking from hibernation. Make a proper coffee, and I mean a proper coffee, grinding beans I’d roasted a few days before, dialling it in, steaming the milk just right, then mastering the latte art. All of that felt like an accomplishment, managed before, what, 10 or 11? That feels like a long time ago now. A distant past. A memory you can just about feel, but one that’s faded enough it barely seems real.

Instead, now I’m drinking whatever coffee I can click a button to get out of a machine at 6:30am, while my toddler runs around holding what I believe is a chicken but is apparently a dinosaur, shouting for me to dance with it. That’s the primary concern at the moment. So here we are, dancing with a chicken, sorry, dinosaur, to “I want to move it move it,” while simultaneously drinking coffee, emptying the dishwasher, and making breakfast. All in the name of being a parent.

And I know I’m not alone here. Every other parent will be doing something similar. Okay, you might not have a chickensaurus rex to dance with, but I’m sure you’ve got something else. And you’ll have accomplished plenty before the clock even hits 9am. So here’s to all you parents out there.

Now, where did I put that coffee.