Someone get me a doctor! I am on my way, baby. Honestly, this is going to be the best day of my life. I am sick to death with being on the inside with nothing to do. Mummy and Daddy always seem to be having fun on the outside, laughing and giggling and joking around. My sister seems like she'd be cool.
Everyone seems like they'd be cool. I have an aunt that is crazy and everytime she sees my mummy, she starts going gaga over me, patting my leg and speaking in a weird voice that is soothing to my ears. I have another aunt and she's just strange. Mummy always warns me when Aunt Sophie is around, whispering, "Crazy lady incoming," just before Aunt Sophie's loud, annoying voice shatters the silence. Not that it's ever silent to me.
Roll, Roll, Roll your boat, gently down the stream is a song that I am more than familiar with now. Daddy sings it to me when he thinks I'm asleep. I try to tell him through kicks that just because Mummy dozed off half an hour ago, it doesn't mean that I'm sleeping too. In fact, I love the night. It's my favourite time of day. It's the only time I get with my daddy and he's got a really nice voice.
A voice that I could pick out in a crowd. There was a party last week and there were lots of people there. I think they were celebrating Martha's birthday; they kept saying 'Happy Birthday' and Mummy was singing those words but her voice wasn't as good as Daddy's. When he spoke, I stopped moving around in Mummy's stomach, listening to everything he was saying. His speech was silly but my sister liked it. Martha took Mummy aside and told her that the highlight of the party was Daddy's speech. Then Martha left.
Perhaps, in a few years' time, Mummy and Daddy would have a birthday party for me. To mark the occasion of my birth, which will happen imminently. Or just as soon as Mummy realises that the pain in her tummy isn't another 'false alarm' but the real deal.
Hopefully, that'll be soon. I've been upside down for a few days now and I'm starting to get a dizzy head. I need to vacate the premises. Plus, this rope thing is really starting to get in the way. Why is it even up here? It's usually down by my feet, not up by my head. Maybe if I try to move it, it'll help. I try to squirm away from it but being forced into this position makes it hard for me to move my hands. I'm like a squashed banana.
I heard that line once in a film that Mummy watched with Martha. There was a monkey and a lion in it. I don't know if it was a good film or not but Mummy cried and then Martha cried and then Daddy came in to make sure everyone was ok before he told them to grow up and stop crying like banshees. I'm not sure what a banshee is but it sounds like fun to be one of those. I'll try it out when I make my debut. I have to make it memorable.
Not that I anticipate people forgetting my arrival. Like I said, I want birthday parties.
And I want presents. Martha had presents for her birthday. She had a secret present that Mummy wants to know what it was. Uncle Sam got it for Martha. He's not my real uncle but that's what he calls himself whenever he pats my feet. I have a real uncle, though. Mummy's brother is called Lucas and he's ok but I think I prefer Uncle Sam instead. I also have another uncle who is married to Aunt Sophie. Uncle Dan is saner than Aunt Sophie but Daddy always says that it doesn't take much to be saner than Aunt Sophie. I don't think Daddy likes her.
Every time they're around each other, they fight. With words. Mummy likes to tell them to fight with their words but then she just complains when they do that, tells them to wise up and then she leaves them. Now, I'm not a genius and I haven't even been born yet but even I know that you shouldn't leave Daddy and Aunt Sophie in a room together when they're fighting.
Very rarely, my grandfather says, does a Sophie-Isaac argument end well. I like my daideó. It's Irish for grandfather but it sounds more like dadj-yoh and is better in daideó's accent. I prefer it to my grandmother's name. Mémé sounds weird.
Everything is starting to sound a little weird now. I can't wait to be born and then I can see everything. It'll be a great change. I've already started to build up images in my head about what everyone will look like. Mummy had blonde hair and I already know that she has blue eyes. Daddy is forever telling her that she has pretty eyes and it's one of the things that he loves most about her. Apart from her boobs. He says he likes those too.
For my Daddy, I think he had dark hair and he's probably very tall. Whenever Mummy wants to kiss him she has to go on her tiptoes and that puts a bit of pressure on me. My heart works a little harder so I can still get all the oxygen I need. Daddy has broad shoulders, too. He's a giant, I think. I like the idea of my daddy being a giant.
Luckily, I don't think my sister is a giant. Martha is a fairy. She's tiny. She had blonde hair. Daddy says she looks like her mummy. If my mummy has blonde hair and she's Martha's mummy, too, then my sister had blonde hair. It's cut short. She has freckles. She also has a temper. Daideó has said that Martha has a terrible temper but at least it's better than the temper any of his daughters ever had. Martha will love me, nonetheless.
Everyone will love me. I know this already. Whenever someone from my family says goodbye to Mummy, they pat my shoulder and they say they love me and they can't wait to meet me. It's like another incentive to hurry up this process so I can come out, crying like a banshee, just so I can be loved by everyone.
They better bring presents. If it's your birthday, you get presents. Surely, if it's the day of your birth, you also get presents. I want a present. Something soft. Maybe a teddy bear. I don't think I have one of those yet.
Correction. I do have a teddy bear. Daddy grumbled about having to buy it from a shop last month after Mummy decided to have a mental breakdown and cry all over it. When Mummy fell asleep that night, Daddy told me that he'll put the bear in my cot and keep it safe for when I'm born and then I can have it and cuddle it and keep it forever.
He named the bear, too. His name is Roo. I think it's because Daddy is a kangaroo. Mummy calls him Skip sometimes when she teases him because it's a nickname for kangaroos. No, wait, if Daddy's a giant, can he be a kangaroo too? Maybe he's a giant kangaroo. Or a kangaroo giant, perhaps.
Either way, I don't think I like the idea of him being like that. I just want my daddy to be the man that sings songs to me at night, tells my mummy how much he loves her and threatens Martha's boyfriends. I want my family and it's about time I finally met them. I hope they live up to my expectations. I think I'd have to crawl back inside if they aren't.
Right here goes. Time to wake Mummy up and make her take us to the hospital. I hope Daddy doesn't pass out. He'll miss my best banshee impression if he does.