You've moved, pumkin.
Your domicile has shifted southward. Your mum's belly has dropped about three inches, which means as far as we can figure out, that you have "engaged". Engaging apparently entails you moving downward and placing your head into your mum's pelvis in preparation for the big event.
Of course, despite the thousands of years of human evolution and the hundreds of years of medical science, it's nonetheless completely impossible for anyone to tell precisely when that event is going to be.
The nearest we can discover is that usually the engagement in most cases indicates to some extent that labour is imminent. Not like before lunch imminent, but like before June imminent. Not that this is especially helpful, particularly when in the situation of attempting to organise someone to come and look after the house while we're at the horsepickle.
Your Uncle Harry and Aunt Liz2 have this morning jetted off to England, Paris and points in between (your otherwise very intelligent father has just then realised that he has no idea when they return), and we are watching their house while they are away. Obviously this means that they can't watch our house and dogs while we are taking care of pumpkin related business, and it is therefore today that I will make the phonecall to (to borrow something cute from Dooce) GEORGE!
GEORGE! is someone very special who you will no doubt meet soon after your birth. GEORGE! is a wonderful person, who your father met under circumstances that will only be divulged to you by your dad when you're old enough to.... ummm.... shout him a beer.
GEORGE! is one of the worlds most happiest and smiling lovely people, and has a deepseated love of puppydom, including but not limited to, Miss Purdey and Miss Kudra. For this reason she is our steadfast backup in this hour of need. Or more precisely, what could be our hour of need, should it arise.
Gosh, punkin, this is tough, can't you just send me a meeting request in Outlook?
Love you.
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