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On Becoming A Baby Bore

Azores Hi


For years I have lagged behind my friends and family in regards to procreation. I stood quietly in the corner, rolling my eyes as they compared rearing notes and cooed over their offspring. Even the sanctuary of the pub held no safety. Each of my drinking buddies has there own kids and much of the chatter is about the latest exploits of little Tommy who has finally managed to use the potty or tie up a shoelace.
Personally I found all that mind numbingly boring, who really needs to know the ins and outs of a child’s snotty exploits? I certainly didn’t and I was confused at the enthusiasm they all had on the subject. Sure I get it, you’re proud of your kids, but this is the PUB. Shut up and talk b***ocks please!
Then I found out it’s our turn, my wife and I are about to join the club. First reaction was huge! I’m going to be a daddy! YAY, cue the fanfares! But as the weeks of pregnancy went on the novelty wore off slightly, not to say I was any less pleased! I’m delighted, it just seemed a long way off and in the meantime, well, not much changed.
Yesterday we had a scan at 21 weeks into the pregnancy and oh Boy! Stand back! The damn thing has a face!! A beautiful little face! She was reclining in that cosy womb like a beachbum in a hammock and I’m smitten. Totally in love with an unborn child and now I Get IT! I get why all my friends and family go on and on about every little detail, I get why they obsess about each stage of development like it’s world news.
To the those without a kid, this stuff is about as interesting as watching paint dry, but to Mummy and Daddy, it’s like the falling of the Berlin wall every single day.


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