Love spreads

Another fear which accompanies the prospect of Number Two is one which, I suspect, forever tickles the conscience of all parents of more than one: how do you spread the love evenly? Favouritism is, sensibly, something of a parenting taboo, and will certainly never be our intention. But balancing the time, love and worry you devote to your offspring already feels like a tactical minefield. For example: I shall have to stop referring to our expected as "Number Two".

Naturally, when Baby B (also an inadvisable epithet) arrives, we hope and expect to lavish upon her or him the same level of care and attention our daughter quite rightly enjoyed (and still does). But how do we do this without neglecting our daughter? I remember experiencing the same fears, albeit on a smaller scale, when my sister's second son was born. What if I didn't feel the same natural inclination to fulfill with gusto my uncle duties the second time around? I needn't have worried: both boys are equally entertaining, adorable and excellent, and I trust that I have reflected this in my interactions with them.

Another interesting aspect of this - and really the crucial one - is how the siblings involved feel. Our daughter will be about 19 months old when she starts learning to share. To what extent will she appreciate the nuances in the family lifestyle? I'm sure she will at least be sensitive to any reduction in the level of attention she receives. I believe the common manner of reconciling this difficulty is to describe it as character building.

Already I am occasionally aware that my mind is on my wife and the contents of her womb when previously it would have been on my daughter. Whilst she is a very perceptive young lady, I think I have thus far managed to shield her from this bleak truth. Nevertheless, as if in response to the impending competition, she does seem to have raised her game of late.

The days when pulling herself up was an achievement at which to be marvelled are long gone. This act is now a simple norm, to be expected whenever she arrives at any landmark taller than herself. She has now advanced to free standing. Oh yes. Admittedly she seems not be doing it deliberately, but perhaps that's why it looks so effortless. Her communication skills have also progressed to the point where she is fully capable of uttering any sound in the English language. It's just that she doesn't want to. She wants to say "Nana," again and again and again. About which Nana seems quite pleased.

But our daughter's current coup de grace is the stair climbing. We were impressed a few weeks ago when she managed one step unaided. But, virtually overnight, she pioneered a method of turning one step into two through an ingenious combination of knee and elbow work, and just sort of fearlessly repeated this until there were no more stairs to scale. Of course, we have conducted the relevant risk assessment and ensure that she is cautiously followed at close quarters when performing this feat, yet I still find it extremely impressive. Even I get a bit confused on the stairs sometimes if I think about it too much. A bit like Theo Walcott in on goal.

Child 1b can't climb the stairs.

Seriously though, I'm not sure I or anyone else will ever know the answer to the division of parenting labour question. But I'm hopeful that the answer is that, instead of dividing the love, you are able to multiply it. Of course, you can't multiply time, but we'll have to cross that bridge when we come to it. Maybe Science will have come up with something by the end of September.