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Wonderful news. It’s been well over a year since Mrs 6k and I announced that we were expecting little K-pu and indeed, it’s been over 8 months since little K-pu arrived in a blaze of gory. Dealing with two small kids is hard work, as any parent will tell you, so imagine how I felt when it was announced that we have another one on the way.
The timing actually couldn’t have been worse. A disturbed night with the little one, concluding at 5:45am at which point she (and I) decided to give up completely on the idea of any further slumbers; a Monday morning with the slightest hint of a Grolsch-induced hangover; a hectic week at work and (as yet unknown to anyone except himself) a flat tyre on Roeland the Clio. Oh Happy Day.
So picture my “amusement” when, at 7am, it was announced to me. No beating about the bush, no gentle introduction, no “wouldn’t you like to sit down and have a coffee, dear?” – straight in there.
I’ve got a baby in my tummy and it’s getting bigger and bigger and bigger.
I was stunned. “What are we going to do?”, I asked.
I’m going to call it Toothpaste and it’s going to buy me a new train set.
“Cool. Want to come and watch Winnie the Pooh now?”
For those of you who haven’t caught on yet, it’s our almost-three-year-old son that is “expecting”. And not just a baby called Toothpaste, but a new train set as well, it seems.
This is no bad omen. Choosing a name as daft as “Toothpaste” indicates that little Alex will surely one day be some sort of film star or musical artiste, earning megabucks and therefore be able to look after us long into our retirement. Which, assuming he makes his first movie/number one aged eight, will begin in around five years time.
I can’t wait.