Dutch Oven

There are now precisely two weeks until our baby boom's arrival. Given that a babber is fully baked and ready from about 37 weeks in (we're at 38/40) it's making my nerves a little frayed. Take yesterday.

I was in the lounge browsing through my Steemit feed on my rubbish Chromebook. I was wondering how I could convince the good lady that we really need a spanky new laptop instead of assorted baby dross. The good lady had wandered through to the kitchen to get something. I heard a clatter and something wet spatter on the ground.

I leapt to my feet. Oh my god, the baby! It's coming! I raced through to the kitchen.

It's ok lass, stay calm, it's gonna be alright!

I stopped at the doorway. She was standing there in the kitchen beside a small puddle of milk she had spilled. She raised a disbelieving eyebrow at me.

Ah, not the waters breaking then.

No darling. Relax.

Yes, yes, of course.

I puttered back to the chromebook, heart still racing. For a moment I had thought all systems were go. Alas no, the waiting game was still on.

Some time later, I was doing a jigsaw puzzle with my daughter. I gave up encouraging her to start at the edges and was letting her slot any old piece in any old location.

The good lady called from the bathroom.

Daddy!

Flaming teeth!! This was it, I bounded up the stairs in a trice. The bathroom door was ajar. I pounded it open and blazed in, ready to rescue. The good lady was standing looking quizzically at a little discoloured spot on the ceiling.

Is that a wet spot? Might need to get those bloody roofers out again.

My chest was heaving with the exertion of travelling at close to the speed of light in answering her call.

Ermm, might be. I will have a look at the roof.

Are you ok?

My good lady had obviously noticed my red cheeks and manic eyes.

Yes, yes. Thought that was it. Thought that we had just gotten the message from ground control. Thought the bomb doors were opening and all that.

No darling, don't worry. There won't be any doubt. Remember last time?

I shuddered at the thoughts of last time. The torrents of blood, gnarly sputum and endless screaming. I twitched a bit before pulling myself together.

Yeah last time, of course.

I didn't mention that the past few years of sleep deprivation had wiped large swathes of my memory clean apart from the Scooby doo theme tune which stubbornly refused to be forgotten.

Scooby Dooby doo, where are you...

I wandered morosely back to my doings And tried to relax a bit. It would be ok, I knew it would. My self convincing words sounded hollow but I did my best to believe them. Just as I was starting to fool myself it happened.

Daddy, daddy?!! The baby!!

Hot shitting damn!! This was it. This was not a drill. I ran back upstairs taking them two at a time. I could hear her in our bedroom making those deep animal noises that women in labour make. Similar to those from a lady rhino when rubbing it's bum vigorously against a particularly rough tree.

Boom! The door nearly flew off its hinges as I threw myself into the room. Ready to do something... Anything necessary!

Something flew for my face. Ninja-like I flicked my head to the side and snapped my hands up to catch the odd pink object.

I stared at my hands, it was a baby doll. Not the sexy kind that your lady wears to entice you to make babies either. It was a toy baby. On the other side of the room my good lady was bent over double with laughter.

Oh your face!! You should see your face!!!

Raaar, had she never heard of the boy who cried wolf? I smiled and guffawed along with her. Inside though I decided. She took that joke too far. She needed to be taught a lesson.

Tonight, she was going to get a Dutch oven