I have not really written exclusively about my daughter on this blog as of yet. Pretty much because up to now she has done nothing of note that is worth blogging about. Second child and all that. I suppose the only interesting thing about her, as far as I am concerned, is that from the very moment of her birth, she has totally owned me. Totally owned me. Oh…and when she was born, I thought she was Columbo.
It was only initially I thought this – as I held her in my arms, whilst the midwife attended to my wife and the placenta. Lets say for the first ten minutes or so. But for what seemed like an age at the time, I was under the impression that my second child was Miss Columbo reincarnate, or at the very least, that my wife had birthed Peter Falk in character. Either way, I was thrown. I mean that’s not weird right? No-one expects their second child to be a popular detective from the 70’s and 80’s or a type-cast actor for that matter. That was not on the reading list at the NCT?
It was all such a tremendous shock. As the very nice midwife lady threaded her needle and began to patchwork my wife’s tattered lover portions back together, my averted eyes fell upon my daughter’s, only to realise with a START, that she was staring back at me with only ONE. Like a little pink Peter Falk. I was flummoxed. I half expected her to pull a crumpled notebook from her swaddling and begin questioning me as to my whereabouts approximately nine month to the day. All joking aside, I was freaking the truck out.
A time before Columbo.
To paint the picture fully, my son (of many posts on this blog) was born with a bi-lateral cleft lip and palate, and although after a couple of operations, he was fighting fit and it was all a distant memory, as a family, we had a heightened awareness to the possibility of complications at birth. Or at least I did. I was ‘the worrier’ for both pregnancies and a gibbering wreck for both the births.
This was despite the £200 natal hypnotherapy courses that my wife made us attend. The course where they promised that providing I fulfilled my role as ‘Gate Keeper’ and my wife continued to breathe, that there would be no screaming. That turned out to be ********. I stood and guarded my gate for eight hours a-pop and never did relinquish my post, even though my wife, despite her breathing, attempted to scream the very skin off my face.
Anyhoo, there I was cradling Columbo and FREAKING OUT. I assumed that the midwife, who was now busily rifling through her bag trying to find the odds and sods to manufacture a vagina, had just not noticed that my daughter was a one-eyed baby. I was SO thrown by the whole situation that I dare not even mention it to her. Looking back, I think I was worried that I might upset Wifey if I said anything, which is ridiculous I know. If we were going to raise a female Columbo baby, I’d have to tell her sooner or later.
It is not the kind of thing you can hide is it? When your child walks for the first time, to the door, stops, turns around and utters, as their first words “Just one more thing”, questions will be asked.
You should never prod Columbo.
The next thing I am about to tell you, apparently is a bit of a ‘no no’ in terms of how to handle a new born baby, or so my wife has told me since. I say ‘told me’, there were no words, just a look of open mouthed incredulity when I fessed up.
Before I was prepared to spoil the occasion by raising my concerns and before I was prepared to risk my wife ending up with a part-fashioned fru-fru, due to midwife distraction, I decided to carry out some of my own tests. Don’t you judge me. You would have done the same.
Ever so gently. EVER. SO. GENTLY. I started to lovingly prod my daughter’s cheek. Prod. Prod-prod. Prod. Nothing. When that did not reveal a second eye, I moved from prodding, to prod-dragging – prodding her cheek with my finger and then GENTLY dragging it down, to make her look like a baby stroke victim. Bugger. Still no eye. Now I was getting worried. Really worried. Next I tried licking my finger and wiping it across the hole where the eye should be – that is the bit that my wife baulks at. Something to do with bacteria. I don’t recall.
Regardless, For your future reference, the best way to quickly reveal a hidden eye-ball is the following.
1. Take your thumb and forefinger and make a pincer – like a crab.
2. When no-one is looking – either because they only have half a portion of genitals or because they are more generally distracted, place your pincer above and below where the eye-ball should be.
3. In one swift move, increase the distance between the two parts of your pincer (thumb and fore-finger) three-fold.
HEY PRESTO EYE-BALL!
“Just one more thing” – Lt. Columbo
Now it should be noted – if you choose to perform the eye-ball appearance trick (patent pending) on a new born, you do so at your own risk. Please note however, that should you choose to go down the road less travelled, the result will be that both the baby’s eyes (newly revealed and always there) will adopt a look of shock and the baby to whom the eyes belong will begin to cry. BUT and it is a BIG but, you will have a baby that although will probably not solve crimes in a casual manner, will not cost you a fortune in boiled eggs and crumpled raincoats.
And so it comes to be that I introduce to this blog my daughter and my daughter I introduce to this blog. I am sure that she’ll come to thank me in future years. Or arrest me. Or plot my murder – but if she does, you’ll all know she did it from the beginning.
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