Was pondering the injustices of the world when Peter appeared at my side at eldest Rugrats' new classroom, to all intents and purposes looking as if he was doing the school run.

"Is Sara not well?" I said, in reply to his asking how I was, imagining something terrible must have happened to have got her busy TV executive husband to perform such a mundane task as taking their children to school.

"No, she's fine, just having a lie in," he said, as if it were perfectly normal for him to let her lie in every now and then, while he took over domestic chores - which it is not.

Puzzled, I said goodbye to Rugrat one and turned round only witness the extraordinary spectacle of Richard the stockbroker, aka friend Lucy's husband (who would definitely rather be seen dead than taking his children to school) taking his children to school.

"What's brought on the helpful male syndrome?" I asked Sara and Lucy, later in the day, when we returned to collect Rugrats.

"It's only taking the children to school," said Lucy.

"I'm surprised Thomas hasn't been offering to bring yours,"said Sara.

"And it's got nothing to do with helpfulness," added Lucy. "Just look at him."

She nodded towards a previously unseen father, deep in conversation about his son's reading ability with lovely new class teacher. Which was when it dawned on me that new class teacher, who we all thought lovely on account of approachability and varied and covetable wardrobe, was obviously also thought of as lovely by offspring's fathers, on account of her approachability and lovely looks, set off by varied and covetable wardrobe.

I asked James, one of the few fathers who always brings his children to school (on account of being an actor who is rarely in work), if he thought the increasingly male presence at school gate had anything to do with lovely new class teacher.

But he pretended not to have noticed and muttered something about needing to have a word with her about daughter's fine motor skills (infant school speak for using a pair of scissors).

The same evening when Thomas strolled in from work, spent at least half an hour 'sorting himself out,' before pouring a drink and settling down to look at the pictures the eldest had used her fine motor skills to create earlier in the day, his usual look of mild disinterest was replaced by something bordering on animation when exhibit number six, MY TEACHER, was shown to him. A few minutes later he appeared to be showing genuine concern that the master of fine motor skills had lost her new pencil sharpener and was asking if she'd like him to take her to school tomorrow to help her find it.

The following morning was busy pondering the injustices of the world, after radio alarm went off with news of severe food shortages in northern Iraq, when Thomas leapt out of bed and into the shower, apparently keen to be wide-eyed etc. as he would be taking the children to school . . .