For ten years she's put up with the one-sided accounts of family life seen through the eyes of her husband. So, for one week only, Dad At Large is commandeered by HEATHER BARRON to reflect on a momentous time in her life - her last baby starting school...

IT seems like I've been waiting for ever. Of course, it's only been ten-ish years - but five years longer than expected. I was ready to join the relatively sane world of grown-ups as I prepared my third child for school, when I was 'surprised' by my fourth pregnancy.

All plans were put on hold, but now, at last, my time has come and God knows I've worked for it. I may have given birth to four children, but I actually look after five. The oldest is 39, and I'm still working on him. The problem is that I didn't get him until he was 18 - too late to whip him into shape.

However, I'm doing my best with the others. The fact that I've got them all to school age without too much mishap (well, there was the time number three had to be rushed to hospital with a button up his nose, but we'll skip over that) amazes me.

Whenever Dad At Large is published I read it with amazement. Are we really that chaotic? The morning of the 'baby's' turn to start school was no exception. He has always been very single-minded, and it was no great surprise when he began declaring, weeks before he was due to start, that he was not going to go to school.

We did everything we could to convince him that: a) He'd love it; b) His friends were also starting; c) The teacher was very nice; d) He would be dragged there in his pyjamas if necessary; e) The policeman would take him if he didn't go quietly. I know we shouldn't have threatened him, but you try living with him.

However, it helped when he tried on his new uniform a couple of weeks before the big day. He was so pleased with it that he refused to take it off. Another fight.

When S-day dawned, he was in fine spirits. He'd forgotten but ran straight back to bed when reminded. The usual persuasion commenced to wrestle him into his uniform and downstairs for breakfast.

In the nick of time, a friend, whose son was starting secondary school with our eldest, arrived with her family so that the boys could walk up together. Suddenly, amidst the chaos, 'the baby' was transformed, got his shoes on and fairly skipped up the road to school. The anticipated tears at the school gates never materialised. I was just thinking it was too good to be true when, less than an hour later, the phone rang.

"Oh no," I thought, "They want me to come and fetch him already."

"Hello, it's Mr Graham from the school." I knew it.

"You seemed a bit anxious this morning so I just wanted you to know that Max is fine."

Really?

So that's that. All four up and away and the silence is golden. Time to try again with the thirty-something.

THE THINGS THEY SAY

"Mum, do you know anyone called Alison?" asked Gillian, six, from Middlesbrough.

"Yes," replied her mum, who proceeded to name three friends called Alison.

Slightly miffed that her mum knew so many Alisons, Gillian blurts out: "Well, I know Alison Wonderland."