my plus one

I was reading a book last night. The title's not important; one of the things you'll find out about me is that my side of the bed is generally about 3 books deep with disposable airport fiction. The book, though, was talking about the way that differences between things are sometimes more important than the things themselves.

It said things like "the difference between one and two is one, but it's more than that", which, I'm sure you'll agree, doesn't make any damn kind of sense at all. It went on, though, to talk about how the difference between one and two is the difference between one and "many". Then it started to make sense. That having one of something is pretty easy, you don't have to divide your attention, you don't have to mediate arguments about whose cup is the blue cup, or whose goldfish had died*.

*(when I was a very young man, your uncle Dave and I each had goldfish. They looked identical. Whenever one died, it was my goldfish that had died, according to your uncle Dave. This scarred me for life)

So now we're gearing up for an occasion in which there will be "many". Certainly, not "many" as in the many that your grandparents had to deal with (at various times up to four children in one place), which entail a whole gamut of logistical requirements, but two is going to be a very interesting time.

Now I'm off, to see if I can fit a baby seat into the back of the Subaru.

Love you.