God knows what people did before Google. If M and I have queries about our current situation, we refer to our search engine of choice. Google – a parenting tool. Who knew? Today M was telling me about the signs that a baby is unwell or dehydrated or both.

“Yes,” he said knowledgeably, “If they are listless or their patternelle is sunken, that’s a bad thing.”

I choked. “Sorry? Their what is sunken?”

“Their…um…patternelle?” He had become cautious in the face of my growing mirth.

“PATTERNELLE? What’s that then? Is that what it’s called because that’s where you pat it? On the patternelle?”

“Shut up! Shut up!” He was pouting. “Stop laughing and just tell me what it’s called.”

I took a deep breath. “Well. That is actually completely accurate. From now on, it will be known everywhere as… the patternelle!”

“OK. Yeah. Right. So I’m wrong.” A pause. “Is it a dardanelle?”

I fell to the floor and began to roll.

M was amused despite himself. “Yes – that’s it. A dardanelle!”

I was gurgling. “So there on Z’s head is somewhere they fought about in World War I? Her own little dardanelle? I’m happy with that. I will relinquish the patternelle for the dardanelle. I didn’t think you could do better, but I was wrong. So wrong.”

It took me some time to compose myself, and while I pulled myself together, M figured out the word. Fontanelle. FONTANELLE.

I found it all the more hilarious as we had been poking Z’s growing double chin the previous day; calling her Winston Churchill while declaiming ‘we shall fight them on the beaches…’ (which our friend Google now informs me is a misquote anyway). Google, google, google.