A sausage in the hand is worth two at the beach

Its only a matter of time and Connex will be blaming the late trains on the baby boom.

You think we're joking??

Well think again my friend.

Poor old Mistress P has been feeling a bit low in the blood pressure department - as preggas women tend to do - which combined with the overcrowding on the trains and a lack of a blatantly obvious bulging baby belly (so she can tell young whipper snappers to give her a seat or feel the wrath of a fetus scorned), meant there's been at least one train trip thus far where the earth has started to turn. And not in a good way.

She survived. Just.
But surely many others haven't... watch for the press release.

Having said that the belly isn't all that noticeable; well, errr... actually it is.

Being a second time mum and all that, the muscles and tendons and all the bits that hold things in have had a bit of a stretchy-poo (a.k.a Mike), and hence we're a little bigger a little earlier this time. That said... you do get bonus points.

Such as feeling little Miss {unnamed as yet} having a bit of a roll about in there, even though we're well shy of the 20 weeks. And thats not just for mum; dad too has plonked the hand on the belly and felt the internal shenanigans.

How cool is that?

Speaking of shenanigans, that really should be Master M's middle name. (Only it's Henry.)

Or maybe it should be Sponge.

The amount of information the boy is taking on board is amazing. Ok, you need a PhD in linguistics to understand him (or be his mum or dad) but the lad is coming up with an astounding array of words and sentences.

For instance, dad was somewhat Fraudianly wandering about on their most recent long weekend away down the coast, singing (to himself - or so he thought - for obvious reasons), "Surrender" by Cheap Trick.

On the car drive home a little voice started babbling from the back seat...

"Mummysorrright"

"Whats that Michael?" said dad.

"Daddysorrright" Mike replied with a big grin.

"Errr... they just seem a little...?" posed dad...

"Weeeed!" said Mike.

Jumping Jehosephat... he was almost right (Exhibit A; Cheap Trick - Surrender):

Mummys all right,
Daddys all right,
They just seem a little weird...

This little memory trick wasn't his only one from the weekend away - not by a long shot.

Walking along one of the side streets we wandered past a trailer that had been parked in the exact same position the last time we walked down that street back on Orstraya Day weegend (i.e., nearly 2 months ago.)

"Fan." said Master M.

"What's that Michael?" said mum.

"Fan gone" said the boy, pointing at the trailer.

Crikey.
There was a fan in that trailer two months ago which was now, well, gone. (We do indeed remember, because at the time he was obsessed with fans. No we don't know why - heatwave perhaps - he just was.)

And then there's his love of the surf. Or at least that's what we thought.

A morning stroll along the beach chanced us upon a surfing competition, complete with some windsurfing friends cheering on one of their own, and a friend from work who was also in the comp and carving up a few young'uns on the way. But more to Mikes liking, there was a genuine sizzling-on-the-sand BBQ.

"Sausy?" (a.k.a Sausage) he asked...

"No matey - that's just for the surfing people..."

"Sausy?"

And off he went, making his pleas while bouncing into random shivering rubber people and stepping on the odd board scaring dad witless that he'd snap off a fin and cost him another hundred bucks in repairs.

"Sausy?"

...till eventually he was given one. Complete with white bread and sauce (the food of kings).

A quick fight with the assorted dogs who were slobbering after a sausage brought down to their eye level, and he wolfed it down, had a 2 minute walk on/over the boards once more, then put on his best starving child face and batted the eyelids to yet another total stranger in rubber:

"Sausy?"

And scored a second one.

The next day he seemed remarkably keen to go to the beach.
Being proud parents and beaming at the prospect that the son and heir was following in our surf loving footsteps, we obliged the lad and took him down to the boardwalk, which he galloped down and onto the sand.

Where he stood.
Turned.
Looked left.
Looked right.
Looked at said parents...

"Sausy?"

Mind like a steel trap.


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