A baby in Paris
Hi there wee toddlers of the world, tis me again, Emeline.
I’ve just heard the greatest piece of news in a very long time: I nearly jumped two feet high straight out of my comfy diapers (that however was to count without the strong bond strapped around me) as I heard the whopping news.
Not so long ago, it was all about me, me, and myself. Ah oh and my toys of course. But now, I’ve got a new one to play with: it cries, moves about (a little), smells (wheee), and giggles when tickled. Yes it’s a brand new, straight-out-of-the-box baby. A friend to play with and above all a new cousin. The first one to be quite precise. Comes fully equipped with instructions so they say.
At last some company I can chit chat with. It’s not that adults don’t listen - they just don’t understand when you talk. I’ve only mastered just about as many syllabes as I’ve got hands you know so each one of those sounds is quite expressive. A lot more than the average twenty-year old’s syllable. Yo!
The newcomer is Pierre, a healthy little boy (photos please?), born in Paris to Claire and Olivier on Friday the 19th of January, a full week ahead of schedule (another one who won’t work for the train companies, let alone the airlines). So by the way, Uncle, it’s not really niece OR nephew anymore. You’ve got one of each now. 100% extra cuddles, drooling, crawling and all the fun in between.
All I can say to the happy parents now is pretty much dada meaning All the best and thanks for giving me company. So when do I get to play with the little guy huh? Another one who’s gonna be a victim of feminin domination!
Till then cheerio, it’s time for a bit of nippy nappy.
