You spent three months debating the relative merits of Maxi Cosi lock-in systems, giant three-wheelers and featherlight, aeronautically engineered Maclarens.

In the same way men fetishise cars and motorbikes, you can tell a Bugaboo from a Quinny at 100 paces. And yet whichever buggy you decided to buy, and however painful the impact on your bank balance, you will wish you’d bought a different one. The other mummies’ models will be chicer, narrower, easier to steer, lighter, better off road, have more storage space underneath, be easier to fold into the boot of your car.

If yours faces outwards, you will worry that you are permanently damaging your child by making them look out at an unloving, uncaring world and ruining your bonding experience.

If yours faces inwards, you will worry you are permanently damaging your child by making them look at your sleep-starved, angry and tear-streaked face rather than being stimulated by the outside world.

You will then spend £500 on another buggy, before realising it, and all other buggies, do basically does the same job. Which is gets your baby from A to B.

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