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If you're looking for the maternity ward just follow the doors marked PUSH!

It’s my granddaughters birthday today and it doesn’t seem that long ago when I was racing through the hospital looking for that very ward. It was 4am and my daughter was about to give birth. Lucky for me I got there in time and what a privilege it was. It’s quite natural for the husband to be there I know that, but the father of the mother to be ? I was a little uncertain at first and then got it in the neck from one of my female friends “ Look here if your daughter has asked you to be there…………… you had better show up!!!
It was magic…. The place was full in the end. By that I mean close family members, I wasn’t selling tickets! : father, mother, mother of the husband, sister in law, husband and midwife. The midwife said it was four years since she had cried at a birth and was it any wonder. I thought that witnessing my daughter being born was a miracle but being there when she gave birth left me an emotional wreck.
I took the my little grand-daughter in my arms and she was just like a slippery little seal pup. I thought she might go whizzing down the corridor. New born babies are like something out of a nature doco so I wouldn’t have been at all surprised to see Richard Attenborough come through the door. After the birth I left them to it, unless you speak the poos and wees lingo you’re out of the inner circle, they’re like Freemasons.
It’s no secret to me any longer so I was happy to leave. I know what babies are like. They wake up, they cry, you feed them, they crap, you change them and they go back to bed again. They don’t do anything else…… nothing. Shame you can’t fast forward them a couple of years!! Now…. three years have flown by and is she a live wire. I took her out to the zoo and then for a walk around the local lakeside where I’m inclined to meet other new grandparents eager to show off their gifted grandchildren. I sat alongside one couple who were feeding ducks. My little ‘darling’ couldn’t get the hang of breaking the bread into small chunks, happy enough to throw it in a slice at a time causing a right commotion in the duck world and annoying the hell out of the couple next to me.
“ How old in she ?” they ask
“ She’s three’
“ Oh really! Our three year old is reading Harry Potter”
“ That’s amazing” says I “ Cos she’s still rubbing shit on the front of the fridge door”

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