Me dear friends.
I have been despatched by the Mem with a ladder, and a large bucket of magnolia paint to, as she puts it, "refurbish," the Nursery. You, like I might wonder why? Apparently it has escaped me notice that the Youth, (our second son you will recall,) not only has married but in the way of things the lass has become pregnant and has recently presented the Youth with a successor.
Naturally I have put his name down for me old school and laid down a pipe of port. The Mem has bagged the title of GrandMem, and I have been allocated the honorific, Grumpy old sod. Anyhow we have visited and viewed. I can confirm that the little blighter comes equipped with the usual accoutrements of arms, legs, fingers and so forth. I am pleased to report that at the age of 15 hours he was demonstrating talents which clearly show that he is a proto genius, onviously far ahead developmentally of any other child born, ever, and a natural for role of Air Chief Marshall if I ever saw one.
Ah, the GrandMem approaches bearing a bottle of, "Friends of the Widow," and two glasses. Apparently we are to wet the babies head, not a prayer old gal, I shall quaff mine.