The Sins of the Father
For the past eight months I have been wondering what sort of a father I will be. I was still wondering at our first ante-natal class yesterday. The only other father there was Keen Dad, who was asking more questions than all the mothers put together. I like to think of myself as a New Man - I've certainly flicked through a couple of my girlfriend's magazines about babies and stuff, but this guy sounds like he's been conducting his own medical trials on the long-term effects of different feeding methodologies.
I try to think of a question to ask that will make it clear to everyone present that I too am going to be a great father. I think so hard that I knock a glass of iced water all over the doll that the midwife has been using to demonstrate feeding techniques.
I try to make a joke: "Oops! I think your baby's wet itself."
"I can see we're going to have to tell Social Services about you", jokes the midwife. At least I think she is joking.
Perhaps being a father is like being an actor - bad dress rehearsal, good performance?
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