Wednesday, March 03, 2010

So, I’m going to be a daddy.

Amazing isn’t is. Somewhere inside my lovely Mrs a collection of gunk is fermenting away and forming little Spartacus. Or something like that. It’s all horribly biological. It makes me a little queasy just thinking about it. And it makes the Mrs more than a little queasy. What sort of evolutionary survival trick is morning sickness? She is also polishing of the ginger nuts at an alarming rate.
And what if it’s a ginger. There is a worrying amount of ginger in my family tree. Facing the 20 years of financial ruin is bad enough but with a ging? Are you still allowed to leave them on the hillside for the wolves? And the suggestion that I’d be more likely to attend the birth if we got a pool in the back room of the crown went down like a lead balloon.
So it’s a traumatic time. But am I getting any sympathy. None.


Blogger Bev said...

Many congratulations Rich. Never saw that one coming. Really pleased for you and Deb.
Lots of love

7:45 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Thanks for the suggestion, Rich. I'll see if I can get Planning Permission for the Berthing Pool (although isn't that where ships tie up?) in the Crown Inn. Gramatically, it should be a "Bearing" Pool, 'cos that's where she bears the child. Ho Hum! You can't get the quality of pedantry nowadays!


12:06 AM  

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