(no subject)
From the journal of Terence Benjamin Boot
1 February, 2002/Devon, England
It's not quite the house I grew up in back in good old East Shefford, but it's the closest I've felt to having a home, a real home in a very long while.
Today (or should I say the past five days) has been such a whirlwind I don't even know where to begin.
Mum and Dad are doing well and absolutely adore Susan (as I told her they would); especially Dad. He's been regaling her with tales of my childhood all evening and I suspect Mum is pulling out the photo albums right about now. No family reunion/meeting the fiancée is complete without pictures of yours truly fresh out of the tub wearing little more than a clean nappy and a gummy grin.
Ah yes. I'm hearing the wild cackling of two mother hens in the parlour, so she's definitely showing the albums. Dear God. I hope she doesn't bring out the one of me and Tim taken after our mud puddle fiasco back when I was six.
Speaking of mothers and babes, Mum is working her own kind of magic to convince us to go see Dr Morgan. Apparently she's a little apprehensive about Healers and wants Susan to have a proper ultrasound and all that from a "professional baby doctor." Poor Susan. She was looking more than a little over overwhelmed from all the fuss.
I should have warned her ahead of time that Mum can sometimes be a force of nature. Especially now that their first grandchild is on the way.
The plan for those two after breakfast tomorrow is a trip to the attic to sort through all of our old baby things. Apparently there's a cradle up there still in good shape so that's one less thing we'll have to worry about buying.
As for me, well, it's male bonding time for the three of us once Tim arrives. I cannot wait to see the look on his face.
1 February, 2002/Devon, England
It's not quite the house I grew up in back in good old East Shefford, but it's the closest I've felt to having a home, a real home in a very long while.
Today (or should I say the past five days) has been such a whirlwind I don't even know where to begin.
Mum and Dad are doing well and absolutely adore Susan (as I told her they would); especially Dad. He's been regaling her with tales of my childhood all evening and I suspect Mum is pulling out the photo albums right about now. No family reunion/meeting the fiancée is complete without pictures of yours truly fresh out of the tub wearing little more than a clean nappy and a gummy grin.
Ah yes. I'm hearing the wild cackling of two mother hens in the parlour, so she's definitely showing the albums. Dear God. I hope she doesn't bring out the one of me and Tim taken after our mud puddle fiasco back when I was six.
Speaking of mothers and babes, Mum is working her own kind of magic to convince us to go see Dr Morgan. Apparently she's a little apprehensive about Healers and wants Susan to have a proper ultrasound and all that from a "professional baby doctor." Poor Susan. She was looking more than a little over overwhelmed from all the fuss.
I should have warned her ahead of time that Mum can sometimes be a force of nature. Especially now that their first grandchild is on the way.
The plan for those two after breakfast tomorrow is a trip to the attic to sort through all of our old baby things. Apparently there's a cradle up there still in good shape so that's one less thing we'll have to worry about buying.
As for me, well, it's male bonding time for the three of us once Tim arrives. I cannot wait to see the look on his face.