
My step-daughter Chele and her husband Tom have finally announced on their blog what we have known in closed circles for some time, that she is pregnant. In an entry called “The Cat’s Out of the Bag,” she talks about her baby currently being the size of a lemon, which I think is neat. Soon little Richardina (my suggestion) will be the size of a grapefruit, then the size of a cantaloup, then a bigger cantaloup, then a small watermelon, then a Black Diamond watermelon, then a beach ball, then a Buick.
Abby and I have been trying to decide what this grandbaby should call us. I like “Grandpa Dick,” but Abby doesn’t so much. Michael’s little sister Jennifer called me “Churchard” when she was a toddler, and that would be okay. Or s/he could just refer to me as “that grimy chap with the ill-fitting trousers.”
I tried to comment yesterday but I guess it didn’t work. To repeat: Squeeeeeeee! Squeeeeeeee! Squeeeeeeee! Squeeeeeeee! Squeeeeeeee! Squeeeeeeee! Squeeeeeeee! Squeeeeeeee! Squeeeeeeee! Squeeeeeeee! Squeeeeeeee! Squeeeeeeee! Squeeeeeeee! Squeeeeeeee! Squeeeeeeee! Squeeeeeeee! …
Congratulations!
Our own tiny pre-human is growing quickly. While not yet the size of a Buick, the heartbeat purrs very steadily and softly like a Buick. 150 beats per minute. Our baby must like techno music.