'So where exactly is your baby sleeping?', the nice builder man asked me. We had a plan of the house in front of us, and I jabbed at the corner of her bedroom where her cot was located.
'Oh that'll be ok then', he said. 'At worst, some plaster might come down on her change table though...'
For some inexplicable reason, my 10 month old had decided to go back to sleep after her morning feed. The same 10 month old who is not normally known for her predilection for sleeping, had fallen asleep and stayed asleep during the most incredible noise - men walking on the roof, throwing tiles, air compressors, hammering, shouting...
We had been told that we should make ourselves scarce this week, as the roof was fully removed, the air conditioning uninstalled and reinstalled, and the new floor hammered into place. 'It might be a bit loud', they had told us. 'You might want to get the kids out'.
No worries. Last night I had packed the portacot, the laptop, a basket of clothes and nappies and toys, three meals for the baby and one for me, and I had planned on abandoning ship long before 7.30am.
The only thing I had forgotten was to tell the baby.
And so she was sleeping, like the proverbial baby. In a room that was literally shaking as the men hammered posts outside her window, and removed the roof from above her head. There was dirt showering down on her ceiling, and circles of sunlight showed around her light fittings.
Maybe that is the secret to a sleeping baby. Noise and lots of it. Either it creates a sense of nostalgia of sounds from inside the womb. Or perhaps she was awake and crying all the time and I simply couldn't hear her over all the noise.