Despatches from a mother who started late (and is running to catch up)

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Warrior

A parcel of clothes has arrived from Vertbaudet, the French mail order company that specialises in maternity, baby and kids' clothing. Inside are the most delightful clothes for Beanie (three) and Button (one), handpicked by the firm's publicists. Beanie receives a pinafore in purple needlecord, matching tights and rollneck sweater. She is in ecstasy when she sees her outfit. I too am pleased; and enjoy the novelty of having clothes in our lives that are not pink. With difficulty, I persuade Beanie to wait until after supper to try on her new threads. The dress is perfect; not too trendy, but smart, pretty and well-made; Beanie asks immediately to wear it to nursery. The firm also kindly sends Button several pairs of leggings and tops, and a black sweater (pictured) so sophisticated that it would not look out of place on the Paris Left Bank. At the weekend, Va-vay dresses Button in a pair of new leggings with matching top. Both, like the sweater, are black, though also studded with small white stars. The effect is more sophisticated - and startling - than anything we have ever seen before from the cherubic Button. Dressed in so much black, she looks like a Ninja Warrior Princess, albeit one as yet unable to walk. What's more, the new clothes coincide with another sea-change in Button's life: the move to a new, forward-facing car seat. As Va-vay buckles Button into her turbo-charged ejector seat on Saturday morning he looks at her thoughtfully. "Do you know what you remind me of, Button?" he says. Beanie and I look at him, waiting for an answer. "A fighter pilot." Button grins and coos.