So, here we are at Week 15. It’s still early days, but I shall reiterate the quickness of the journey.
Once again, for the fruitists, I believe the size is that of an apple (about 10cm). And again, a specific type has not been mentioned.
As this whole episode is nicely rumbling along at its own pace, one’s thoughts are automatically drawn to that of names. ‘Conversations’, read heated debates, have already started within the household. Well I say started, they are more re-runs of the previous conversations from the first time.
There’s always an element of the automatically ruling out any name that resembles, or states, fruit, counties, countries and / or fictional character names. Imagine in 20 years, the trauma that you have caused poor old Shrek…
You then move onto sensible names, and you realise just how many of them have been taken. Obviously, more than one person can have the same name, I mean I’m the fourth in my family, but when all the names that you like are also the names of friends, it becomes more difficult. And when it’s the same name as previous pets………
You always think that your friends are going to think, ‘aww, you named the child after me…’ when in reality, that was the last thing on your mind, you just forgot about them at that exact moment when you decided on one name.
And then, my god, the decision of whether they have a middle name.
Really? They don’t really serve a purpose do they?
I can’t really comment, because I don’t have one myself, but some people insist on having one. Like it’s some sort of exclusive status symbol. O-kay…
Anyway, this is all a side topic. The main question, drawn from the title, is this a wise decision?
With the activity of our daughter the past couple of weeks, we would be mad to have another child. The devil has visited our house, and he’s decided to stay for a holiday.
Sophie has certainly embraced the whole ethos of ‘terrible twos’. Backchatting, disobeyance, shouting, mood swings. I’m not going to say where I think she has inherited these…
I don’t know why they start, or indeed how to stop the bleedin’ things, but I know that they weren’t present earlier. Maybe she has gotten in with the wrong crowd, you know loitering on sofa corners, dealing My Little Pony….
Maybe it’s just my tolerance level has plummeted and, no wait, it’s definately her. What used to be daddy’s little girl has started early on the journey to teenhood.
Oh christ, soon it’s going to be in stereo….