MEET JACKDadness. Women have a sixth sense for it. To them, you're like an old bull in a field at the side of the motorway, harmlessly chewing the cud, watching the world race by, nothing like the wild buffalo stock from which you came. And that's how it should be, of course, after seven years of marriage to the woman you love. But, lately, as I've looked around, all I've seen is temptation. From random women in the pub, to my foxy new boss... they've left me doubting whether I've really been put out to pasture at all... MEET AMYMotherhood, I've discovered, is the great leveller. I could be a celebrated fashion designer (instead of the finding, cleaning, bum-wiping domestic robot I've become), but having kids automatically makes me the same as all the other mums in the park. And being 'the same' makes me want to do something terribly rash -- like rediscover the impulsive person I used to be. Don't get me wrong, I love Jack and our son, but everyone else seems to be having so much more fun than me--and so much more sex... Can they resist The Seven Year Itch?