DorkyDad and I were lying in bed the other night. We were laughing.

“He’s like you,” he said.

“No, no, no. Don’t blame that mess on me,” I said. “He’s all you. Every last bit of it. It’s all your fault.”

It was a shock to have a son. It was all a shock, actually. Pregnancy, labour, birth… that deep intake of breath that came when I was handed a solid little body for the first time.

I was so sure it was a girl. We had chosen her name. She would arrive calm and quiet in a rosy glow. Instinct would kick in and the rest would be easy.

Ha!

That’s what DorkySon says now. ‘

“Ha! Tricking you!’

Wee bugger.

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