Arthur? Martha? Monkey?

monkey
Originally uploaded by nappyfever.

The baby is imminent. By the looks of the lady, it could come any minute.

People keep on asking, "Do you know what you are having?"

I tell them that we are hoping for a human child.

"Oh, so long as its healthy." they sigh.

Which is a nice sentiment, until you examine it closely. Then it becomes a bit fascist. They might as well say "lets hope you don't have a cripple." The fact is that we will love this baby, girl or boy, healthy or sick, able bodied or disabled. (I nearly finished off this sentence with "black or white". But no, I imagine that would be an issue).

To be honest, I really don't know what to hope for. Another little girl would be lovely. You know, sort of like a matching pair. There's only fifteen months between them, so they could be best friends.* It would be very cute to have two little pink toddlers chubbling about. When they are a bit older we can take them to ballet classes and watch them totter about uncontrollably in little ballet shoes. It would be very, very cute.

But girls grow up in to teenager girls and for a few years: yeuch.

I have worked with teenagers for many years; and some girls, not all, but many go through a hideous transformation at about the age of 13-14yrs. A sweet, unassuming twelve-year old gets possessed by the puberty demon and bang! They challenge constantly; they scream and cry if they don't get what they want; and they weave intricate social wars against each other. Two of these creatures in my house at the same time could prove to be unbearable. Particularly if I'm the only chap.

Then there's the prospect of having a boy. I would love to have a son we could do father and son things like... erm ...ahh... oh. Now, this worries me for a number of reasons.

First of all there's football. I'm ashamed to say that I've never been sporty. I have absolutely no idea of who is in which team and who finished where or won whatever. This is a problem. I'm from Liverpool, you see. One of the first questions anyone wants to know when they first meet you is "What team do you support?". There are two responses: I either lie and feign loyalty to a local team or tell the assembled company that I have no interest in football whatsoever.

If I lie I'm swiftly caught out as soon as anyone starts footy talk and that happens every time two or more men meet in the presence of booze. "We should buy defenders...Milito and Ibanez would be nice. Then again, I think we only need one new CB. I'd like to see another forward, I'm not too sure about the Lord of Frodsham yet. I hope he comes good for all he's been through. What do you think Jake?"
Fixed idiot grin: "Yeah, nice. Lovely. Football's nice and that. Isn't it?"

If I state that I have no interest, I may as well stand on a bar-stool and declare in a clear, loud voice, "Do not trust me at all. I am quite frankly, odd. Furthermore, I would like to bum each and every one of you. Hard"

Talking about football is something most men do. It transcends all social, racial and class barriers. You can walk with Kings and keep the common touch and what's more, be a man, my son.

My dad actively dislikes football and I would hate to pass on that social disability to my own child. The problem is that it's too late for me now. To know football takes a lifetime of study, commitment and passion. You can't just go out and start supporting a team or pretend to like football, not without looking like a prize nob.

The other thing is that male intimacy is quite a funny thing. I never had a particularly intimate relationship with my own dad and, not having any sort of real role-model, I'm not sure if I've got the inherited man-skills. I've always had lots of female friends* and found very blokey company a bit uncomfortable.

And finally, I suppose I am a bit of a pussy. Who wants a house-husband / theatre-director dad who makes a really good sweet-potato curry and knows how to get stains out of silk, when Toby-down-the-road's dad drives a big shiny truck and knows how to kill a man with one blow?

So all-in-all a boy would also be a bit difficult.

So when people ask again "What re you hoping for?"

I will respond "A monkey. A lovely uncomplicated monkey-child."

Just think off all the fun we will have.

So Long as it's healthy...




* There's only ten months between my girlfriend and her sister and they are as thick as thieves. Bloody impatient if you ask me. What did her dad do? Ask the midwife to step aside so he could have another try?

** Female friends are like male friends in that you can drink with them and have a laugh, but they are slightly better because they can dance and have tits.