This post is all about Bob.
Last week marked the three year anniversary of his arrival here on planet Earth.
His birth was memorable. I want to tell you that a glorious white- feathered stork tapped on my window to alert me of his arrival into our lives. I want to tell you that as the magnificent bird arrived, I was sipping iced tea whilst listening to an early Mozart piano sonata and indulging in a relaxing professional foot massage. I want to tell you that I heard the tap on the window, put down my iced tea, opened the window and gathered my little bundle up in my arms, welcoming him into the world with a warm motherly embrace.
But that's not what happened
What actually happened was that Bob came flying into the world violently like a melon-sized bullet from a toy gun. It took 38 weeks to cook him but only twenty minutes for him to fall out of the oven onto the floor into a pool of human excrement. A joyous but profoundly foul arrival, thanks to a student midwife who lacked the gumption to clean up as she went.
I guess if you're born into a pile of shit, there's only one way to go from there. The only way is up.
Here he is on the day of his shitty arrival.
He sure was a beauty and scrubbed up well.
Right from the offset, Bob presented us with some fairly serious concerns. Initially, we panicked that he may be the spawn of the Devil himself. Disgusting green liquids were projected from his foul mouth daily. One night, I swear that his head rotated a full 360°, although I can't be sure- the mind sure does play tricks on you when you haven't slept for weeks.The scene pictured below caused enough of a concern that we consulted the advice of the local Priest to exorcise any demons that he appeared to be hosting.
Thankfully, the Priest said he was demon-free. The symptoms, he said, were typical of a new-born and he would soon grow out of them.
The Priest was right. As the weeks passed and Bob grew bigger, he began to develop a comical personality and my husband and I began to consider that he may in fact be the reincarnated spirit of the late, great Kenneth Williams. If this was the case, our boy would achieve world fame and we would retire wealthy and live out our days snoozing on a diamond-encrusted four postered bed. It all sounded just marvellous!
As if being funny wasn't enough of a gift, Bob started showing a real talent for posing for the camera. He loved the camera and the camera sure did love him. My husband and I discussed that Bob may in fact have a lucrative career as a top professional male model. If this was the case, then we could retire and spend our days drinking Bollinger from pint glasses. whilst lying on our diamond-encrusted four postered bed. That sure would be fabulous we thought!
Aside from being 'really really good looking' and incredibly funny, Bob displayed a level of intelligence far beyond his years. He ability to navigate his way around an iPad was astounding and he seemed to have a real skill for the art of conversation. My husband and I wondered if he would perhaps use these gifts to secure a future as a top notch CEO of a major corporation. If this happened, then we could retire early and afford to hire a full time massage therapist to iron out our aches and pains as we sipped Bollinger from pint glasses on our diamond-encrusted four postered bed. Wouldn't that be a delight?!
Given that both my husband and I are professional musicians, it also seems highly possible that Bob will develop a musical gift. I recently looked across at him as he ate his fishfingers and it occurred to me that he bared an uncanny resemblance to Ludwig Van Beethoven. Given that Bob can already play Twinkle Twinkle on the piano at the tender age of 3, my husband and I are now convinced that Bob has a huge career as an internationally-renowned composer ahead of him. This will likely bring fame and fortune and my husband and I will no doubt spend our days spreading Caviar onto Jacob's Cream Crackers whilst we sip Bollinger and have professional foot massages on our diamond-encrusted four postered bed.
Even though Bob's life started out being shitty, we predict wonderful things for his future. Being a super-wealthy, funny, ridiculously good- looking, international composing CEO won't be too shabby for a guy who started out his life lying in a pile of human waste.
In the words of Yazz, the formerly famous 80's diva:
"The only way is up, baby
For you and me now"
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