I’m late with this one because the summer holiday weeks all merged into one.
Rather like my children.
Take this photo:
I’m almost certain it is Spud because it’s taken from the left – my hospital bed was on the left wall when I had him and on the right when I had Tory Boy.
Is it terrible that I can recall the position of my beds after childbirth but not what my new children looked like?
The problem is that both boys looked like their father at birth which means they also looked like each other. It’s been sixteen/twenty-two years and my memory isn’t what it once was, and that wasn’t much.
I say Spud looked like his father and brother, but he also looked like someone else. I had him by Caesarian and the anaesthetist (why does childbirth have so many aes? Coincidentally, A+E stands for Accident and Emergency in the UK – the equivalent of the American ER – and accidents often result in emergencies that include childbirth nine months on. Well it does in my family), a lovely man, held me up as the gynaecologist (see!) yanked him out.
What emerged was a fat, blue and crinkly Spud. My first thought – I swear this is true – was, ‘Oh, he looks like the alien baby from V.’
Tell me I’m wrong: