This weekend we have been waiting very patiently for baby news. Thankfully it has absolutely nothing to do with me. Our close friend Lu (last seen on this blog eating cake) went into hospital in Nottingham on Friday, and any minute now the news that she is a mummy for the first time will arrive.
But it has still not arrived. Apparently Lu is getting bored now and is busy doing crosswords (not having cross words!) with daddy-to-be. It can't be much fun really. Hospitals aren't the nicest of places especially when you are hoping and waiting to go into labour yet rather scared of the prospect and of what lies ahead.
IJ is getting inpatient too. She wants to know what the baby is doing. I've told her it is probably sleeping. IJ thinks that is daft.
Last night she did ask me the dreaded question of how the baby would actually be born.
"Will it pop out of her belly button?" She asked. "Or will her tummy burst?"
I reassured her that neither of those things would happen. When that answer was not sufficient I took a deep breath and explained the birth process more accurately.
She wasn't alarmed at all and actually did not seem that bothered. She seems proud of her new (very basic) knowledge.
"Sounds pretty easy," she commented.
"Yes," I lied.
It's not easy or pretty, of course, but a six-year-old does not need to know that.
So now it's Sunday afternoon.
And we are still waiting.