- Week 27, day 5
- Baby boy
- Name not yet confirmed
- Mood of significant other : Tired, bloated and aching
After the revelation of parenthood, I now find myself pondering deep into the future, usually while rocking forwards and backwards in a foetal position staring blankly into the distance. Previously, the optimum pressure struck upon me on a daily basis was deliberating over which Pot Noodle to digest, or whether to smuggle one or two Mars Bars into my lunch box. These day’s, I ponder at what age my son will be signing for Barcelona, triggering the free ride and early retirement I’ve always dreamt of, or if he could potentially shame the family after choosing to be a Utd fan.
My Dad has always pushed me with Sport, in a really positive way. I tend to be good at most, but not great at any. The problem I’ve always had is the faster I try to run, the more I look like a paraplegic gazelle on roller-skates. This doesn’t quash my hopes and dreams for the little man though, as he will one day play for England. Even if he does sprint down the wing like Phoebe off F.R.I.E.N.D.S amidst an onslaught of jeers.
It’s only natural to invest your dreams into an unborn child. For me, it will be for him to inherit enough genes from his Mother’s side to be able to grow a luscious beard. His uncle Dan sports a majestic beard, almost Zeus like, or something you’d expect a young Bin Laden to flaunt after a good shampoo. My efforts on the other hand to join the beard gang usually result in me resembling a younger, poorer, John Walters. I’m as bald as a dolphin, I really am. My inner thigh is smoother than a Morgan Freeman narrative, where as the missus’s side could grow a coat to survive a winter in Siberia. She’ll probably look like a billy goat when she’s in her 70’s, but I’ll still be as hopelessly in love with her all the same.
Back in England, we had a 4D scan. It was a present from my Nan and Sister at a small independent centre, but the service was fantastic. The lady who performed the scan was a retired Doctor who kindly upgraded our package free of charge as we’d travelled all the way from Spain. Excited, and a little nervous, we all shuffled into the room hoping boyo would be facing the right way.
Initially he was head down and wasn’t for showing off, but luckily flipped over just as the camera began rolling, saving us from a painstaking 45 minute DVD of nothing but his arse. It was amazing, just to see the likeness of his face and his ever developing mannerisms. Luckily he resembles his Mother, so he’s a bonny little lad with a big noggin’.
As we embarked on a trepid Star Trek 2D exploration of the womb, cervix, uterus, and bladder, I sat in my chair gasping sheepishly, scanning the room in hope that someone would tell me what the f**k I was looking at. All the girls laughed and smiled, shouting, “aww look at that, there’s his todger”. This only confused me more, as for 25 minutes I was under the impression I was looking at his arm.
The experience then wrapped up, and we saw the little guy in all his glory. Upon leaving the room, with a spring in our step, we collected our pictures and our ‘highlight reel’ DVD. At this point, I spotted a young couple in the corner. The girl was smiling, and seemed rather excited. The young lad however, carried a look translating to ‘SHIT, SHIT, SHIT, her Dad’s going to cut off my bollocks with a rusty spoon’. Acknowledging this, I avoided eye contact and slid past them. My Nan however, high on life, strolled over proud as punch, proclaiming “I do hope your time will be magical like ours was!” . I think she even then tried to high five the poor guy as he crumbled into his chair.
Massive thanks to Baba Scans for the fantastic experience, best present all Christmas. I’d highly recommend you to anyone in the North West UK.
So Son, We’ve had a glimpse at you, just stay happy and healthy in there. Being born into a World where Donald Trump is president, and men insist on wearing UGG boots, I do wish you the best of luck. Me and your Mother Goose will try our best to give you the greatest start that we can, it’s then down to you. By the time you’re of a reading age, all evidence of my younger years will be deleted, and you will grow to live under the pretence I was a gentle boy, who’s only fault was that he cared too much.
Partner update. fast asleep catching flys with a finger in her belly button.
have a great weekend 🙂