A kick up the arse

I haven't posted for a while. For two reasons really.

1) I've been running an acting summer school.

2) We are expecting the birth of our second child any minute now.

The summer school is now over. It has been quite nice I have to say, working full time for a bit. Leaving in the morning with the baby crying after me. Returning at night to a whoop of delight and a big smile. When I'm at home with the baby all day I often suspect that she is getting a bit bored of me. My repertoire of songs, games and visual gags is running a bit thin. There's only so many times that you can jump from behind the couch with a tea-cosy on your head blowing a raspberry and be entertaining*.

I've started to wonder is there a script writer who works in the field of baby jokes? There must be a market there. £40 for a selection of brand new visual gags and fresh animal noises** - I'd buy it.

Sometimes I think she regards me with an air of weary resignation. I feel like a bit of emotional furniture that she just always expects to be around. Leaving now and then makes me special again.

But now we are all here. At home. Sitting, waiting for something to happen. The baby is now over-due by four days, which isn't long I know, but its incredibly frustrating. We have tried everything: curries, riding over the speed-bumps at full tilt, cumin tea, raspberry leaf tea, sex, pineapple, blue cohosh, caulophylum, sex, black cohosh, kerb-walking, absailing, sex, bungy-jumping, sex, whitewater rafting with pineapple, the application of woad, chanting, burning sacred cow dung and sex with pineapples.

The two things that she has ruled out are:

1) "the administration of castor oil" (hooray - who needs a pooey pregnant lass hogging the bog all night)

and

2) "the oral application of semen" (boo)

I've got rehearsals starting again next week for a play that goes on stage in mid september, so I'm not ruling out a swift kick up the arse. At the weekend perhaps. When she's not looking.

Oh don't tut. You know I wouldn't really.

I'm nice, me.

Just ask the baby

Preferably when I'm out***


* From a baby's point of view - 1031 times before it stops being amusing.
From an adult point of view - after the third time you lose the will to live.

** I've been quite successful at teaching her animal noises. Too successful perhaps. Her monkey noises are startlingly good. Her human language skills don't come close to her monkey-speak. If things don't reverse soon, we will have to sell her to a circus.

*** And only if you can understand monkey.