Today we saw what surely must be the hipsterist dad in the Inner West, which (to loosely quote the Big Lebowski) would place him high in the runnin’ for hipsterist worldwide.

He was of course riding a bicycle, single speed at least but I think a fixie, beard with accentuated moustache, flanny, leather waistcoat, some form of checked kerchief, a hat which looked as if he could be in the French Foreign Legion during the week but could equally return to Paris on the weekend to paint surrealist artworks without needing to change his headwear, no helmet, leather sandles, no socks, tight black jeans. He was riding one-handed with his other hand holding a leash at the end of which was a dog which I presume was a rescue dog, salvaged from the horrors of ‘Big Business’. The dog was ugly, due to its deliberately impure breeding, but in all the right places such that it was oddly handsome and quite appealing; somewhat like Owen Wilson. The dog was also sporting a checked kerchief.

Attached to the stylish bicycle was a baby chariot of some sort, but not like ours which is all German and solid and safe. This one looked dangerous and exciting as if the dad had fashioned it himself out of an old tent during the smithing workshop he gives once a week behind the old railway yard. He rode with impunity at a leisurely pace in the middle of the road. He was cool.

Milo and I gazed at them enviously as they passed, Milo peering out of our very solid and roadworthy Uppababy Alta, which accords to all Australian safety standards. Milo didn’t even have his moustache onesie on and I was wearing both a sensible shoe and hat. We sighed and continued on our way, vowing to build something out of wire coat-hangers that evening or at least install a bee colony on our balcony.

Milo is currently showing signs that he wishes to move to a one sleep a day routine. I am resisting. One sleep a day would greatly impinge on our lifestyle and many daytime commitments; Gymbaroo, Swim School, long lunches in the park. I am not sure how long we can fight the tide but I have only three weeks to go on this full-time adventure so I am sure with careful planning and well-timed walks we can achieve it.

After our customary morning stroll Milo did not sleep today until 1000, which meant of course he did not wake until almost 1200. Inspired by hipster dad I prepared fresh foraged ‘pick n mix’ couscous fingers for lunch. In stark contrast to the previous failed crispy experiment Milo was quite interested in these uber treats and ate with enthusiasm.

Milo has this week become fascinated by the scrolling numbers in lifts. Whenever we approach a lift he giggles with excitement then points with his little claw-fisted pointing style at the numbers in anticipation of them changing. When they do he bobs around in his pram, or in your arms, hooting and grinning. We always count the numbers as they change which makes us feel like exceptional parents, using the natural environment to enrich our child’s mind at every opportunity, as if we are in an episode of Sesame Street. In reality he just enjoys the little red lights, a lot.

Unblinking fascination in the lift

Milo had his afternoon nap in the car as we went visiting my cousins who are in town. This was a rare and brave manoeuvre as we would not be home until after sunset at which time Milo must surely turn into a pumpkin. We needn’t have been concerned. Milo was delighted by the new faces, new books to pull off shelves, contraband cookie fed to him by my fiendish cousin, and even some music with rude words in it.

Milo remained awake in the car on the way home and we arrived home at precisely the same time as Kuepps. Milo, who was already overstimulated from his lift journey, beside himself at the unexpected pleasure of encountering his mum in the corridor.

Last night we finished Season One of the West Wing. My father and brother last weekend opined that perhaps it is a little obnoxious to be 15 years behind on a television series and then get upset at people who want to talk about it around you. I concede they might have a point but even so I will offer no spoilers except to say we are still in shock.

Postscript for today: As our readership has exploded beyond my mum and her Bridge group I have decided to change the names of some of our key characters. Valdis is ubiquitous and so will remain, forever, Valdis, but other changes have been made. Don’t be confused.

• Centimetres of gap between sandal and trouser on hipster dad – 7
• Number of contraband choc-chips smuggled into Milo’s mouth by my cousin – 3
• Hours spent cutting old flannelette pyjamas into neck kerchiefs for sale at the markets – 0
• Hours spent cataloguing existing bee species on our balcony for apiary preparation – 0.5