I have seen the baby and, of course he is gorgeous, wonderful, amazing, the most amazing baby in the history of the entire universe!
Right, that's as far as his parents will read into this blog. So now, the truth: he is gorgeous, wonderful, amazing, the most amazing baby in the history of the entire universe - with the possible exception of all the other babies in the history etc etc.
In fact, he's got a choochy face, doesn't look like Winston Churchill, and has a head of dark hair which immediately gave me a twinge of envy. I bet he can't conjugate Latin verbs, though, so I don't regard him as a serious threat.
His name is Edward. Apparently he was born Edward, unlike my third Kiwi grandson who, after four weeks, is still referred to as "him".
Well, you know me, I did the business. A bouquet of flowers and congratulations for the mother (Alison), a bottle of bubbly and best wishes for the father (Andy) and a promise to help whenever I was needed (Mercifully refused so far. Little boys are much harder to clean up and change than little girls).
Then I came home and thought "Bodily waste products! (I am trying to clean up my language), which is it: congratulations to mum and best wishes to dad, or the other way round? And then I thought, "Reckless copulation! (still in Bowdler mode, you see), they are so shagged by sleep deprivation, they won't even have noticed.
And now, my beloveds, I am into a serious celebration of new life. In fact I might even open another bottle later on to underline my commitment....
PS That is NOT me in the photo.