Little Fitz has doubled in length again this week.
I presume it has at least, because that's what 'the books' are telling us.
In fact, it could be doing absolutely anything in there, anything at all. I picture it sprawled out and scratching itself, reading Stephen King paperbacks, playing air guitar on its umbilical chord, stopping occasionally to choose something to munch on from the placenta platter. When it's time for a scan, it hurriedly hides all its paraphernalia under the yolk sac and assumes the foetal position for the camera.
Anyway, the growth is jolly news in itself, but toss in the fact that its relatively humongous head should hopefully not have grown this week, and we can celebrate having a less Gollumesque looking foetus inflating my wife.
If you are going to have your entire metabolism abused by a complete stranger, it might as well be a cute one I say.
A couple of 'firsts' have happened this last week for the bellydweller too.
(S)he has been registered at day care. Stop laughing. Another one of Holland's unique aspects on all this, we've asked for three days a week sometime from August 2010, and if we are really, really, really lucky, we might get them.
Also, while technically not its first live music experience, (that particular privilege goes to Holland's answer to 'The Commitments'), the kid did go to its first proper rock concert in the shape of U2.
I expect that the mutating one was just as underwhelmed as I was.
The 'first' that I'm most proud of is the fact it managed to get in for free, sneaking in under ET's t-shirt. At about 100 euro a ticket, that made papa very proud.
Kidlet is already earning its keep.
Very proud indeed.