week 24 - love

Sometimes someone says something that somehow, someway, sums up everything. Like why you reckon they're ace.

Saturday, and Mistress P is pondering the purchase of a friend's windsurfing sail, despite the fact that a) shes preggas and hence it may be some time before shes attempting that "Vulcan" manouvre shes now dreaming about, and b) we will be able to share a "sail quiver" for the foreseeable future, as leaving a kiddie locked in a hot Subaru while you both windsurf may well be an inditeable offence. (Even, i was surprised to find, if you crack open the window a lil bit.)

The sail would cost $A300.

We'd also earlier been talking about the purchase of a $400 pram. And the fact that we'd almost paid off enough mortgage to be vaguely comfy in switching from died-in-the-wool DINKYs - never having taken the preliminary step to being, like our good friends Noony+Jo(+Stanley), DINKWADS - to a 1 income, 3-mouthed fully fledged family unit (minus the picket fence).

ME: "Oh horse-hockey - $300 for a sail, $400 for a pram... man, we're gunna be poor forever..."

Mistress P: {long pause} "Mmmmmm..... wellllll we dont HAVE to buy the pram."

(See why i love this grrl?)

Being the thoroughly modern and lovable woman she is, she didnt beat AB senseless when he snuck up and took the obligatory "barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen" photo. She simply put it in her Microsoft Outlook calendar as a "to do" in 6 months time.

On the Rufous front, he's kicking and wriggling and generally having a gay old time. (Not that theres anything wrong with that.) Hence now, contrary to earlier, its when he's not bouncing about like a mad thing that mum feels uncomfortable and hence worried. On the other hand we're now so used to such wrigglings that sometimes this, combined with preggy brain, causes one to forget when he last tap danced to "smoke on the water" down in there. Hence:

Mistress P: "Hey, he hasnt moved for ages... I'm worried - feel my belly."

AB places hand on belly, and promptly gets it kicked, headbutted and high fived in quick succession, with a stop-start pattern remarkably like "Are we there yet?" in morse code.

AB: "Yep... Nothin..." Print this post