Whizz bang wallop
The Spaniard doesn’t like fireworks … well, maybe it did by the end of the evening but what happened when the first few bangs happened is something I’ll never forget.
Went along to the Fakenham firework display after a wonderful blustery afternoon on Brancaster beach and a mountain of the best fish and chips ever in the Jolly Sailors. All well, little person happily enjoying second hand fresh fish when all of a sudden the North Norfolk radio count down began and the biggest series of bangs I’d heard for a long long time suddenly went up. The poor little Spaniard went bonkers… bounced of out of peaceful complacence and started just leaping and jumping in response to every bang. I felt so guilty, so shocked and so amazed at the level of movement I went and sat down on some steps and clutched my tummy with both hands until the racket stopped. When the second round started it seemed to be calmer which was a relief but it did bounce all the way home and most of the night … I wonder how muffled it all sounds … and how much the sound of my singing to it to try to calm it down helped?
Anyway … am not convinced that The Spaniard is to be a fan of loud noises…
however, a funny and touching thing did happen earlier in the day. I was still asleep and woke up hearing a chuckling sound. Husband was asleep with his arm around me and his hand on my tummy where apparently he was ‘bonding’ with The Spaniard and the two of them had been playing a game for a good 10 minutes before I woke up. He prodded or pressed my tummy, The Spaniard kicked him, he did it again and The Spaniard bounced. The chuckle that woke me up marked a particularly powerful kick that pushed his hand right off my tummy. It felt so odd to think that they’d been playing together using me as the playground with me totally oblivious of the whole experience. Most odd… but seems to have cemented the bond between father and unborn person, which is a good thing.
Quiet Sunday after all that excitement, fending off older members of the congregation at church this morning determined to tell me that I am having a boy or a girl based on the position of my tummy. AAAAAAAAAgggggggggghhhhhhhhhh… then this afternoon a great friend came to Cambridge with her wonderful son aged 12 and we looked at suits of armour and ate chocolate brownies together and had a very happy time one of the highlights of which was him saying it was good I was having an unzipping ceremony rather than giving birth ‘naturally’ as he had seen a video at school and it was “all hair and yeuch”.
On that note it’s time for bed … oh and with a nod to Dame Maggie Smith and Downton Abbey, I know my mother wishes The Spaniard was being born into vast wealth with a swathe of servants to attend our every need. Sadly not the case … but it is being born into lots of love and will be surrounded by people from all walks of life determined to share their love of the world.