The apple seed baby has grown.
Well, I'm assuming it has grown because it's now being compared to a grain of rice, or a blueberry, depending on what you read.
Firstly, I'm not so sure a grain of rice is any bigger than an apple seed, and secondly, telling your average thirty-something year old Irishman that something is similar to a blueberry is about as useful as tits on a bull.
I'm not comfortable with all this measuring up against healthy foods and fruit business. I'd much prefer if they compared its size to things I'm familiar with.
'This week your baby is the size of a malteser, or a McNugget, or one of those sugar lumps you carry around in your pocket you disgusting man', would be much more indicative for me.
At its current age of 6 and half weeks old, this leader among embryos is growing a set of kidneys, which should come in handy. It also has buds for arms and legs, and I wonder if it's already trying to shove it's bud-fist into the empty space in its face where its mouth will be.
Where exactly you would fit these four limb buds, set of kidneys, and last week's beating heart on a blueberry, I'm not so sure.
Small as it may be, the bugger is demanding. Mouth or no mouth, it manages to communicate through it's host interpreter who in turn informs me what 'the baby wants'.
The baby wants the lasagne without the spinach so go back and get it, the baby wants the red throw over and not the blue one, and the baby wants to watch another episode of 'Ashes to ashes' and most definitely not that boring '24'.
In 9 days time we get to have a look at this wife squatter, and I'm bringing fruit.