So it happened last October that we woke up one morning to the sound of our bedroom door opening and closing and the soft plop of our intruder onto our bed. I know what you're thinking: it's Isobel. And this is another predictable post on Izzie, full of gratuituous pictures that only obsessed parents and selected babyphiles appreciate. Hah! You'd be wrong! Because our intruder was not a berserk 2-year-old, it was a little plastic contraption. It was this:
Fergus: What's that babe and how did it get here?
Athalia: I dunno. Have you been feeding weird animals outside again?
Fergus: Only the stray cats. This has nothing to do with stray cats, does it?
Athalia: Doesn't look like it.
So we shopped this around a few of our friends and we were told this means we're having another baby! Is that right?? Well we sure as heck didn't think we'd be told this way. But yes, it turns out to be true. We visited our not-so neighbourhood professorial obstetrician, he pulled out his iPhone, pointed it at Athalia's tummy, fiddled around with Instagram and came back to us with something that looks like this:
My word, that looks like it's been in there for years!
So yes. We'll be having another child. It's gonna be twice the everything and a lot of economics of scale. More people to wash the bathroom, do ironing and rinse the dishes too. Muahahaa!
Next on The Second Baby Files: Hamburger or Sausage?
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