Late last week things started to get a bit worrying.
A whole swathe of little signs began to make us wonder of the Rock Chef clan was about to expand again.
Now this should not be possible! I had that little operation to stop any more little Chefs appearing, and according to the doctors the condition that had made them announce that my wife was totally infertile many years ago had well and truly taken hold.
But things happen, don't they? Men have had things re-grow and reconnect, and my wife's recent operation is just the sort of thing that can persuade a couple of dozen eggs or so that they can make a break for it. We were getting worried.
Surely, we were too old for that sort of thing, now? The sleepless nights, the endless poop everywhere, having to sterilize everything, then the toddling, potty training... How would we cope? How would my wife cope with pregnancy? Things could get really complicated.
At the weekend, it became clear that there would not be an addition to the clan. Phew! Thank goodness for that. We are spared the poop and sick and sleepless nights.
Would have been nice, though, in some ways, don't you think? Taking a little one for walks with Custard in a carrier, watching all those TV shows that the others are too old for now, the cuddly toys, rattles, mobiles, the wonderful feeling of cuddling a sleeping baby, or bouncing him/her on my knee blowing raspberries and pulling faces. And wasn't changing exploded nappies good fun in its way?
I guess we will have to wait for grandchildren now - they have the benefit that we will get to hand them back when they start to cry, I guess.