Unlike myself, she made the decision not to find out the gender of her baby. She is far more patient than me and much less nosey! They already have a little boy, Woolly, who is the same age as Biscuit. He's bright as a button, cheeky and sweet and ever and such a little character.
They had a loft full of baby boy clothes, but no baby girl clothes at all and as I had a loft full of baby girl clothes it was my duty to find them a new home. I've passed some to Lucky for little Dinky to wear and now I've passed on the newborn stuff to Impressive E for her little one.
Now don't get me wrong, I'm pleased as punch to be able to pass on anything that might be of any use. I'm a big fan of recycling clothes and moving things along the line as much as possible. I just feel a little sad that I'm officially admitting that I'm pretty much definitely not having any more babies myself. It's like publicly declaring that my womb is now some defunct object that I carry around needlessly. Like a knitting bag with no wool.
I know I sound like I'm desperate for more children, but really and truly it isn't that. It's that I'm not ready to declare myself out of the game.
I'm not ready for hot flushes and an overwhelming desire to cut my hair short. I'm not ready to start faffing about with chip and pin machines asking where the card goes and announcing that they're "so confusing" or that five pence pieces are "too fiddly". I'm not ready to start seriously considering a perm as a viable hairstyle option. Is it normal to feel this way? Please say yes?