Just got back from dropping off my baby gift to my brother and Patience. (Baby’s due in… one week. Oy vey.)
Losing my job fucked up a number of important plans. No France. No Film Fest. And I had fully expected that my baby gift (money) plans were borked, too. Except then I checked my bank account last week and… voila. One more deposit from my former employer — vacation pay and other odds and ends. Almost to the dollar what I’d planned to give the baby.
I like when things work out. 🙂
Sooo… yeah. My brother called me a freak and tried to give the cheque back. (No, it’s not too much. I hear kids are expensive. And I don’t need the money. God, I love not needing the money.) Then they just sorta sat there looking shocked. Then thanked me when they realized there was no way in hell I was taking the cheque. Then they both hugged me.
I literally have no living memory of my brother hugging me. We don’t touch, really. Well, we shook hands that one evening when we left his house after finishing packing up the remaining stuff. “Pleasure doing business with you, sir. Let’s never do this again.” Heh.
Also, hugging a woman who’s nine months pregnant is logistically interesting. Particularly given that I am no willowy stem of a lass, either. There were bellies and boobs all over the place. But we managed.
I told my parents when we found out about the baby that this kid would be well taken care of. I meant it. And I’m a bit of a force to be reckoned with. Give me back the cheque, indeed. Worse than Andrew trying to pay me for his birthday iPod. Sheesh.
Then my brother showed me the manicure Patience had given him (much improved). (I gave her a manicure gift certificate for her belated birthday gift, which she also thanked me for.) Chad’s cuticles are usually terrible (he’s a man’s man, and doesn’t do moisturizer), and it drives her nuts. Heh. She’s a good influence.
Alright, baby. Bring it on. 🙂