Seven Pounds Three and a Half Sugars

Dear Chroniclers,

it's hard to know just what to say. But perhaps reallyfried, our learning disabled son, best puts his finger on the pulse.

"Seven pounds, three and a half sugars ..."

The calls come thick and fast throughout Thursday night. And then around 10:45, maximouse, our eldest daughter, calls to announce her waters have broken. We hear the voice of her partner, Chief Lamper, in the background. Panic would not put too fine a point on it.

Mrs electrofried springs straight into action. Her overnight bag, packed and waiting this last week or so, is thrown hurriedly into the back of the charabanc and off she heads into the midnight air. Two and half hours later she arrives safely at the hospital, and six and a half hours after that, "Little Lamper" arrives safely into the world.

I travel down with teenygoth at the weekend to greet this new family, and the day passes in a joyful cavalcade of laughter, hugs, photos and tears. How new life moves us so! Teenygoth sleeps most of the way back, inevitably.

The next day we visit reallyfried to take him some pictures of his newly born nephew. His excitement knows no bounds, as he announces proudly,

"Seven pounds and three and a half sugars!"

Slowly, light dawns. Maximouse has telephoned her brother to bring the good news, and in explaining the weight of Little Lamper has drawn comparison to the humble bag of sugar.

How very precious is dear "seven pounds and three and a half sugars"!

with best regards,

electrofried(mr)