You ever heard about that thing where the dad to be starts to suffer the same symptoms as the mother? Morning sickness, decreased intelligence, laziness, stuff like that. Well a similar thing happened to me. I found myself puking my guts up regularly. Specially on a Saturday and Sunday morning, occasionally on a Thursday. It was weird. Usually I’m fine after ten pints. And it wasn’t just me singing a rainbow either. It was coming out of both ends. I’ll never mock a woman for having a vagina like Mary Poppins carpet bag after having kids for after laying Wayne, I had an arse like a wind sock.
Something was happening to my man boobs too. I swear they seemed to be growing bigger! And sometimes I could see four of them. Possibly a side effect of the gin & tonics I was throwing back to combat morning sickness. Medicinal purposes you understand. Whatever it was all about, I’d definitely be up shit creek if I was going to have to breast feed. I’m lactose intolerant.
Not that Debs was experiencing any of these adverse effects btw. No sympathetic foot rubs, no relaxing baths run, no neck massages. She was doing very little to help me. In fact Barry was more of a help on that front. I suppose things were still on tender hooks between me and her. She did offer up a bit of an apology one night in the form of opening her legs and showing me her bacon strips. Actually, I hadn’t realized just how long I’d gone without sex. Who’d have thought? What with the excitement of having Wayne taking up most of my time, the prospect of ripping out the fireplace hadn’t even entered my mind.
I never got round to accepting her apology that night. My mini me was mid way to standing to attention when I heard something downstairs. Something was unsettling Wayne.
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