Some may have got the impression from the entries in this journal that First-Born is a darling, perfect child. Witty, intelligent and a nobel prize-winner in the making.
I feel it is time to balance this with a story that will make her cringe when she reads all this stuff in a few years time.
First-Born was a terrible sleeper. She didn't sleep through the night until she was almost 5. Naturally, The Ex and I attempted to follow all the advice of our well meaning friends and family, but eventually settled into a shift pattern. One night it was my turn.
I was sitting on the sofa, watching a surreal scottish television programme called "Hamish Macbeth", eating a bowl of pasta thoughtfully prepared for me by The Ex with one hand while the 9 month-old First-Born was cradled on my other arm.
Presently I became aware of a slightly acidic taste to the pasta. After another exploratory mouthful I peered down at the food.
It transpired that First-Born had quietly puked on herself, me, and directly into my food. I had been eating baby sick.
And this, my friends, is why I'm looking forward to when the first Significant Other pays a visit. I have a number of embarrassing videos of First-Born as a small child. Payback time.
She's 8 this year. So it won't be long now. I can wait...
