Status Quo

I'm not sure, pumpkin of mine, that I have much to tell you today.

I'm at work, which is normal for this time on a Tuesday. I'm going to the gym tonight with Harry, and your mum is going to, as she puts it "stay on the couch and log some chick time" with the able assistance of Liz, some icecream, an unfeasible number of TimTams and some trashy television.

We have found a temporary solution to the refrigerator issue, albeit an old and busted 'loaner' fridge that is not anywhere near as pretty as our 'titanium model' that looked so NICE in our kitchen. It does, however, keep food cold and milk from going off, which the titanium fridge was not so good at.

It's difficult to know what I should be telling you about. In my writing I'm attempting to answer the questions that I think you will have by the time you're old enough to ask them. Will you want to know about football? Car racing? Bathurst is on next weekend, but are you interested in that? What about fashion? Loud ties are in at the moment, and pink is going to be huge this summer. Do you want to hear about gardening? I can post a photo of my new herb garden for you....

Instead of telling you about what's happening in the world, it may be best to tell you about what's happening inside me.

It's only in the last weeks that I have begun to imagine you being here with us. Rather than thinking about Eve's pregnancy as something that is occurring now, I'm beginning to see it as the precursor to you. To you as a baby, sure, that's immediately obvious, but more than that, I'm beginning to think about you as a child.

I'm wondering what foods you will intensely dislike (don't let appearances fool you, your dad refuses to eat peas, brussels sprouts and broad beans, and your mum won't go within 8 feet of baked beans), I'm wondering what your favourite colour will be. I am filled with a desire to see you as a person rather than a tiny lump in my wife's abdomen (although I know that's going to change soon enough).

Your mum asked me the other day if I thought you were a boy or a girl. I think for some reason that you might be a boy, but there's really no difference to me. If you're a boy you'll be loud, intimidatingly intelligent, precocious, prone to injuries caused through experimental play, have gorgeous big blue eyes, and thick blond hair, just like your dad. If you're a girl you will be loud, intimidatingly intelligent, precocious, prone to injuries caused through experimental play, have gorgeous big blue eyes and thick red hair, just like your mum.

Either way, we're on a winner. Love you Pumpkin.

ps

We still haven't chosen your name, and in a continuation of this enormously popular feature, I present more in the names that will not be yours series:

Aelwen, Arwen, Briallen, Drudwen, Ceindrych, Ceiros, Cerian, Ce, Crisiant, Faleiry, Fflur, Eiddwen, Eira, Eiry, Enfys, Eswen, Eurwen, Gwennant, Gwennog, Gwylan, Gwyneira , Haf, Heulwen

also, can you PLEASE ask your assorted grandparents, cousins, aunts, uncles and assorted hangerson who read this diary every day to start leaving some comments for you? thanks.

Dad.