And Mistress P is already going through stages of "I have to get even BIGGER THAN THIS?!?!"
Rufous is certainy starting to twist and shout in there, and its not unknown for Mistress P to be merrily cycling along to work when all of a sudden "arghh... errr... {bit of a belly clutch} awww... RUFFFFOUSSS!!!" He certainly knows when to kick and shove and try to get out (through the belly button) when its least appropriate, which did lead to one comment to hubby about "your bastard baby" trying to kill her. Crikey... imagine the language when the contractions start. She'll be making truckies blush.
Maybe its payback for the weekend. It was hot. Damn hot. And as the house slowly but surely approached core-of-the-sun status after 4 days of close to the imperial ton (i.e., 100F), Mistress P slowly but surely started to wilt. Which is probably what most of Melbourne did also, but for her it was quite unusual. Dad-to-be got an attack of the guilts and went screaming off in the hunt for some sort of cooling device, eventually, two Bunnings later, finding the second-to-last hideously expensive evaporative cooler available in SE Melbourne, clubbed it and dragged it home.
Ten minutes in front of it and P came back to life. Of course it did diddly to cool the house itself, but placed directly infront of the belly it did wonders. (But when the belly got too cool young Rufous started objecting again. He is a tempremental tike.)
Maybe he's just hungry... cos mum certainly is again. Though maybe its cos she cant actually fit in, in one go, as much as she used to. But she is certainly thinking about food a lot and hence sending bizzarre food-pondering stream-of-consciousness emails at random times of day. A combination of preggas brain and preggas hunger. Its wonderful. I present, your honour, Exhibit A:
-----Original Message-----
From: Mistress P
Sent: Tue 2/20/2007 10:19 AM
To: AB
Subject: lizard and hippo
I'm a hungry hippo this morning.
I've already had an apple and a few nuts/seeds/sultanas
but I want something more substantial - like a peanut butter sandwich
(with my fancy peanut butter...) maybe I'll have some of my squashed fly biscuits..
P
(Squashed fly biscuits = a form of thin raisin slice.)
In the "one for the future" file, young Ruf has already had his career plan laid out for him by our ex-PhD supervisor, Simmo, who clearly has a solid belief in genetics/his ability to be teaching in 21-22 years time. Never one to miss an opportunity, it seems young Simmo has announced that, under the father(/mother)-son rule, he clearly gets first dibs on Ruf for his Doctorate. (But does that mean he misses out on a third round draft pick?)
We'll take that as a complement. (But I'd be happy for him to be a plumber. Like Kenny.) Print this post
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