The little girl called Lucy a few doors down from us had watched my expanding tummy with much interest but had not actually spoken to me about our impending arrival. The day we came home from the hospital she must have sensed the bump had put in an appearance. She raced up to the car in her pink scooter as we arrived home. “What is it?” “Errrr, it’s a boy!” “Oh” she said, clearly disappointed. “Did you push it out?” “Yes, I did”. “Was is sore?” “It was a little nippy” I said tactfully. “Show me on my arm how sore it was” she demanded . I gently nipped her arm, resisting the urge to rip her arm clean out of its socket to give her an accurate picture. She fixed me with a stare and a look of exasperation as she shook her head at both me and my new son. “Can I hold him?” “Not just now Lucy”. “Can I bath him?” “Not just now Lucy” “Are you feeding him with your boobies?” “Im hoping to Lucy”. “Can I see?” “Maybe later Lucy”. We managed to get in to the house as Lucy peered through the letterbox as we unloaded our belongings and baby into the living room. She rang the doorbell a short time later and Simon answered under my strict instruction to tell Lucy she could see the baby another day. Lucy gave Simon a look up and down and then asked him if his Mum was ready to show her the baby. His MUM!!!! The labour had definitely taken its toll on my appearance if this was anything to go by.


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