THERE is a rash of new dads in the office. Or should that be a nappy rash? Paul, Nick, Nigel and Adam all seem to have got bored with what was on telly at the same time, and it's been a joy watching the big build-up to their entry into the world of fatherhood in recent months.

They've been overheard sharing experiences about morning sickness, parentcraft classes, ultrasound scans, nursery decorations, pushchair designs, heartburn, restless legs and sore nipples, bonded by their blissful ignorance of all that lies ahead.

Paul won the race, with baby Joe Fraser (now there's a boy who won't get picked on) weighing in at 8lbs 11ozs and his proud dad announcing his arrival in a flurry of texts.

"It's just magic," said his message.

Apparently, Paul didn't stop smiling for hours but the first sleepless night hit him like a Smokin' Joe right hook and he was on the phone saying: "I'm looking for the receipt..."

He was only joking, of course, but there's no going back with babies. The lack of sleep, the worry, the mess, the chaos, and the vast expense are only just beginning for the new dads.

"I know they say it's going to change your life but you have no idea what they really mean," he mumbled on his return to work after paternity leave.

The poor lad sits at his desk, with that tell-tale throw-up stain on his shoulder, heavy dark rings under his eyes, pale complexion, yawning every five minutes, but breaking into a soppy smile every time he catches a glimpse of baby Joe's photograph which has been used as a screen-saver on his computer. How sweet.

On one hand, it's made me thank my lucky stars that I've made it through the back-breaking, brain-numbing torture of the baby years. And, on the other, it's made me envy the bewildering excitement of those first few weeks of being a dad and realise how quickly time flies.

On the night Joe was coming into the world, my baby girl - the one who made me burst into tears in front of the midwife when she was born - was becoming a teenager.

She was all dressed up with a bunch of her friends and going off to Pizza Express in a stretch limousine for her birthday treat. She looked more like 18 than 13.

A few days later, my 14-year-old son - our eldest - was insisting that he should take over the remaining tooth fairy duties in the house. He wanted to be the one who waited for his little brother to fall asleep, so he could silently collect the tooth from under his pillow and replace it with 50p.

"It's OK, Mum, I'll do it," he said. And, quite clearly, he loved keeping the fantasy alive for the only one left who still believes.

It seems only five minutes since they were babies themselves and I was entering the terrifying, exhausting, wonderful, magical world of fatherhood.

Now, I'm a veteran - an old hand - with four rapidly-growing kids, an overdraft, Kylie Minogue for a screen-saver and a word of advice for the new dads whenever they need it, starting with: "Enjoy it while it lasts."

P.S. So what is the collective noun for new dads? Apart from a nappy rash, suggestions so far include: A nursery of new dads. A pride of new dads. And a quivering of new dads. Further ideas will be gratefully received.

THE THINGS THEY DO

MY mate Stuart's niece Holly, 14, had gone to join the library and was asked to fill in a form: "Name, Address, Age" etc.

When she got to the bottom, it said "Sign". Holly wrote "Gemini."

THE THINGS THEY SAY

AT a meeting of St Mary's Mothers' Union in Acklam, Middlesbrough, Jean Pagan recalled how her husband Albert Pagan hadn't been well and was recovering from an operation.

He was sitting with grandson Dominic, aged five, on his knee. The boy looked up at his grandad and said: "Do you know what I'm going to ask Father Christmas for?"

"What?" asked Grandad.

"To make you better so you can play lions on the floor," came the reply.

ANOTHER St Mary's member, Elsie, who taught at Ayresome Infants in Middlesbrough, remembered the time three boys were messing about in the cemetery next to the school.

After ordering them up to her room, she asked one of the boys, who was normally well-behaved, what on earth he thought he'd been doing.

"He told me to do it," said the boy, pointing to another of the trio.

"If he told you to jump in a lake would you do that too?" demanded the teacher, crossly.

"No," replied the boy.

"And why not?" asked Elsie.

"Because I can't swim, Miss..."