My Englishman and I didn’t sleep well last night, as he was afflicted by sleep insomnia, and I was afflicted by the light of his bedside lamp and the blue glow of his laptop screen beside me.
Picture of innocence
At about 4am we had the following discussion about P who is heavily pregnant with her first child.
In the light of day it seems quite funny really. As you read on, remember that I have had three children with my ex husband and my Englishman (husband number 2) has not been through the whole birthing thing first-hand.
Me: “So is P only allergic to lotions and soaps or is she also allergic to cloth and certain fibres?”
Englishman: “I don’t know. I think just potions and lotions and stuff. Why?”
Me: ” I was just thinking about what to buy her for the baby when it arrives.”
Englishman (disinterested): “Uh huh.”
Englishman continues to tap away on laptop keyboard, lusting after expensive photographic equipment. This is his 4am ‘porn’.
Me: “She said they’ve heaps of stuff and baby clothes, and I know they’re using cloth nappies so anything like that is out. I don’t know what lotions to get, so I was thinking about baby’s first book.
Englishman (lusting after long luscious lenses): “Uh huh.”
Me: “I thought about maybe buying baby’s first book. Or perhaps some kind of toy. You know a stimulation toy.”
Englishman turns to look at me with an expression that conveys his understanding that I’ve said something quite dodgy.
Englishman: “Bit early for that, don’t you think?”
Me: “No. Not really. I was given one when Son was born and it was brilliant.”
Englishman is really studying me now. His eyes narrow, and he seems to be suffering a battle of two minds. One mind wants to know. The other really, really doesn’t.
Me: “I had this really great one, it was all black and red, high contrast colours, and ridged handles…”
Englishman: (coughs dryly) “Did it need batteries?”
Me: “Batteries? What for? Nah, it was just really cute like a long red and black wiggy worm. We passed it down to Dark Princess when she was born. Babies love that sort of thing. The high contrast helps them to learn how to focus and….”
My Englishman is now looking at me alarmed. I catch his expression and then a glimpse of the dawning realisation that I am not talking about a post-natal trouser snake. Nor am I talking about a toy I bought for myself, post baby.
Oh. How we laughed.
NB/P – if you’re reading. I might not buy your baby the stimulating toy if it’s ok with you.
