Hurry up and wait

It would be the easiest joke in the world to have started this post with; "We've just had our baby. Given what looks strangely like a USB connector slot in its wrist, we suspect somethings gone skew-iff. The doctors assure us its evolution in action and we've just bred the super human of the future, possibly the result of Andrew resting the wireless laptop over his goolies as he types. ("It keeps them warm.") Cant say much more as we've signed an exclusive agreement with Today Tonight for the story. Our only disappointment is that now Naomi Robson has left it cant all be filmed with Rufous clinging to her safari suit."

And then remind you its April Fools Day.

In reality we're still sitting about and waiting. With 6672 hours of pregnancy down, we're now only 48 hours away from the due date... though Mistress P has a "feeling" that it might be a little longer than that: one of those "womens intuition" things. (But then again she has muttered that Monday (i.e., tomorrow) might be a nice time as well.)

She's also been wondering aloud if AB is undergoing some form of male nesting.

This is mainly based upon the fact that for the past month he's been acting in the role as quasi-2IC at work, with the added "benefit" of no one taking over his normal job. As a result he's been busier than a blue arsed fly, getting home late and mumbling about "bloody business plan", "damn one-off-bids" and "what day is it??" Plus he's been all go on the weekends, some-may-say unnecessarily mowing the dirt (he claims Hampton East - "the Baghdad end of Hampton" - has managed just 1mm below average rain this month, so theres almost a tinge of green...) and attempting to "fix stuff".

And whats wrong with that???

He does admit that he feels a little more "responsible" these days, and hence may well be subconsciously stocking the cave with wilderbeast just in case.

The other thing he's feeling is a strange sense of waiting that he last experienced when his dad was crook with cancer of the cactus kind.

You know somethings gunna happen that'll change your life forever, but you kinda can't believe it will. Happen that is.

At least this time when he spies Mistress P stroking the belly (unlike when he gazed at his father hand feeding the magpies in the backyard) he knows this a big positive result. And smiles. Yin and yang, swings and roundabouts... cie la vie.

Mistress P on the other hand is just starting to get sick of the whole damn big tummy/hanging around thing, plus getting somewhat fearful of the stretchy looking marks on her belly. Shes also sleeping a lot and eating like a dog lost in the PAL factory. (Dont dare put your arm between her and a piece of hedgehog slice...you have been warned.)

Not to mention (as has been before) the heat shes giving off, quite literally. With the calories she (well, actually they) are burning, AB is pondering a way to cash in on this natural energy source and return it all to the national grid.

So... no birth yet, clocks still ticking.

Just not on April Fools Day please.
(A USB connector will surely be out of date by the time he's 5 anyway.) Print this post