Attempted Prison Break by the Inner Child

"Lay my body down down

Down upon the water

Wrapped up in the clothes of my mother and my father

O this is longing

I want to be complete

I was waiting round in a little jump seat"

Becomes The Colour (2012) by Emily Wells

Last Tuesday, the wife was admitted to the Labour Room for observation because her Inner Child™ tried to make a break for it from his tiny solitary-confinement cell before he completes his 40 weeks sentence. I like to think he gave up halfway to take a nap. He did, however, manage to have his first cardiotocogram recorded while the wife had a sort of rehearsal in prep for his actual birthday - so all-in-all, it was quite an experience.

The Obstetrics team wanted to keep her under observation for a couple of days, but by Wednesday evening, the wife had quite enough of "being observed" doing nothing the entire day so I went and talked to the Registrar in-charge to ask for an early discharge, which she reluctantly granted. The baby is still inside my wife at the mo, so all is good.

Because of how gravid Cheryl is, moving around have turned into a laborious and, in light of the recent episode of threatened preterm labour, a potentially hazardous proposition. I now buy her her meals ahead of time so she doesn't have to venture out on her own to get food while I am at work. Once in awhile, I would try making dinner.

This was what we had today,

None too shabby, I thought.

It was spaghetti with white creamy mushroom sauce mixed with Genovese pesto and reconstituted dried cranberries. I also tossed in a bit of fried ham strips and sausage slices which I had lying around. The garlic-and-pesto toasties were a teensy bit burned but I kinda like them that way. The wife was really sceptical about the cranberries when I proposed them but she ended up liking them after all.

I made a promise to myself in med school that no matter how busy I get, I must make time to read at least one book a month. While I managed to keep that promise till I graduate, I am sad to report that I had been less than committed to that self-imposed duty once I started working. This month, I managed to finish Tad William's The Dirty Streets of Heaven, a noir-ish supernatural thriller in the veins of The Dresden Files by Jim Butcher (which are guilty pleasures of mine). It was a fun if forgettable read.

On my Kindle, I have gotten started on The Baby in the Mirror, which is an engrossing read by developmental psychologist Charles Fernyhough who detailed his daughter's psychological growth from birth to three. I'm only about a quarter of the way through, but I really enjoy the neurological explanations behind all the little things that babies do and I foresee going back to it over and over again like a sort of guidebook as I watch my own kid grow up. There are a few experiments that I would like to perform on my baby boy, but Cheryl would have none of it. Maybe she'll come around, like she did with the cranberries in the pasta sauce.

Meanwhile, here are some obligatory cat pictures,

Catnapping in the afternoon with Sophie.

Mikey with his crazy blue "WANT" eyes trained on Cheryl's bowl of super not-halal pork porridge.

Mikey, a minute later.

A close-up of Sophie.

We are just three more weeks to term. Wow. I can't believe that this is going to be happening so soon.



Prison warden,
k0k s3n w4i