Our child will not be wearing squeaky shoes

OK, these aren’t squeaky, but we dislike them too

There is one thing that should be banned for the sake of your kid and the general public – shoes that squeak.

They are by far the most irritating things parents can buy for their children. So far, none of our friends who’ve kids have made their children wear squeaky shoes, so we haven’t been able to ask why the heck anyone would want their kids to squeak with every step they take.

I can only imagine some parents possibly saying that it’d help them know roughly where their kids were running, and how fast they’re running.

A squeak… squeak… squeak… squeak might tell them that their kid was marching along at a normal pace, while a squeak… squeak… squeak… would either mean their kid was walking slowly or trying to hop on one foot (provided both left and right shoe squeaked the same squeak).

A squeak squeak squeak squeak squeak thonk might indicate their kid running into something, with no subsequent squeaks after the thonk indicating that their kid was off his or her feet and badly hurt.

I dunno. Some people have wind chimes to tell them the wind’s blowing, I suppose.

Halfway there


One of the funnier moments in the last 20 weeks was comprised of me, sitting in the ob-gyn’s office, reacting to the ob-gyn’s indicating on the ultrasound that Naomi and I would very likely be having a baby boy instead of a girl which I had so confidently predicted previously “because I can just feel it”.

I went, “oh”.

The Ob-Gyn asked if I was disappointed while Naomi laughed as hard as she could, teasing me about being so sure previously.

So, yes, we are expecting, and while it hasn’t been completely smooth sailing, we are both very excited and nervous – being first timers and all, and being close to being buried by the tons of information on the internet, in books (the Kino discount card is handy) and magazines.

Conflicting dietary advice has also been coming in from many well-meaning family members and friends, and while we’re trying to let common sense be the final arbiter in difficult choices, it can still be worrying (e.g. oh no, I’ve eaten 2 mangoes in a week already, and now they say cannot eat mango, how ah?)

Being expectant parents also explains our indifference at our Krups breaking down again as we’ve both gone off coffee (I still have the occasional espresso but my tolerance for caffeine’s gone down tremendously – one double shot and I’m climbing walls like spiderman on um… caffeine), while Naomi’s cravings have been interesting without being bizarre.

Sometimes it feels as if we’re operating a short order kitchen – sandwiches, pasta, chips – as the books say Naomi should eat smaller but more frequent meals.

The books don’t say anything about expectant daddies gaining weight because the expectant mummies can’t finish their food. Well, they do, and I have put on 5kg since and I can’t fit into my jeans any more.

Naomi’s gonna be a Mummy! And I is gonna be a fat daddy!