I mean, literally, under his armpit. Pushing the pram with one arm, baby under the other, he was the definition of relaxed. I actually had to double take to confirm that I’d seen a baby under an armpit.
The baby was warm, safe, quiet and comfortable. He wasn’t being held in a sling, or cradled like a box of eggs. He was just hanging with his Dad. I felt like David Attenborough for a minute. Yes, we were bathed in the neon pink of HMV’s flickering signage, but it was lovely.
There was no fear, no adhering to protocol, no soothers, no blankets, no need, just a man holding his new baby in his armpit.