Think one toddler is hard work? Try two.

Instantly they had the better of me. I'm sure they planned it. J Man went to the left, while The Kid shot off forward then did a U-turn, aiming straight for the table holding tea and biscuits. He continually circled them, swerving in every few turns to pick off stray bickies. I wished I had lizard eyes that move independently of each other, so I could see both of them at the same time.

Thankfully J Man only got as far as the carpeted section before he decided it was time for a nice sit down, and he waited for The Kid to bring him the biscuits he'd successfully pilfered.

After spending a fraught hour and a half chasing round after them both at play-group, Lisa and I went to a local pub for lunch. I was worried that neither of them would sit and eat anything after the sheer amount of biscuits, toast and fruit they'd beasted half an hour previously, but it seemed they were trying to out-do one another by seeing who could scoff the most sausage, chips and beans. When they'd finished theirs, like locusts they focused their joint efforts on Lisa's son, Bosh Man's, chicken korma.

I spent another twenty minutes refereeing various fights over crayons, paper, tissue and forks, but all in all, our lunch out was a success.

We then went for what would have been a pleasant wander down Kings Heath High Street, had it not been for the fact that I was steering something that wouldn't be out of place in a war zone, dodging anti-tank missiles.

Later on I went for a drive. They both fell asleep and I took the opportunity to pull up in a local picnic spot and do some work. Not five minutes had gone by when I got the faint, but all too familiar whiff of poo.

Oh no.

I now faced the conundrum that every parent faces eventually. Do I disturb the peace - risk waking both of them up by investigating further to see if one of them had filled his pants, or chance one of them sitting in his own filth for half an hour and let them (and me) get some much needed rest.

I compromised. I waited 20 minutes then drove home and changed them. Then it was off to the shops to discover that the supermarket aisles of my local Co-op have been very carefully designed to be the optimum width for causing the drivers of twin pushchairs the maximum amount of distress.

They are near enough the exact width of the pushchair. Again, the two occupants of the tank seemed to plan what they could do to cause optimum disruption. One leaned to the left trying to haul magazines on to the floor, while the other one leant to the right, repeatedly swotting at the precariously piled packs of sugar.

The whole time I was unable to thwart their attempts at havoc wreaking; my hands were full of shopping and I couldn't reach round the sides of the chair.

So there - I handed J Man back later that evening. I'd enjoyed having him, but I realise there's no way I could have coped if I'd have had twins when The Kid was born.

When I explained to J Man's dad what a busy day we'd had he said with a grin: "Someone's gonna sleep well tonight!"

And I really did.