Isaac’s definitely a boy, right? Unobservant though Heather is always reminding me that I am, even I am capable of doing the necessary anatomical checks.

I know his obsession over the past few months with all things relating to Angelina Ballerina (and the colour pink in general) is just one of those phases that some small boys go through. But I think his tendency to wear a frisbee as a makeshift ballet skirt is perhaps taking things a bit too far …

Just the other day, he stood up proudly and told me seriously, “Daddy, I can point my toe” while performing what I believe is called a demi-pointe (but what the hell do I know?)

The sad thing is he has inherited his dancing skills from his father, who is about as nimble and elegant on his feet as an arthritic rhinoceros – and it shows. I just don’t have the heart to tell him that he has about as much chance of a career with the National Ballet as I do of winning the Tour de France. Let the boy dream his little dream …