Names and Nappies

We are eight weeks into Project Peppercorn now, and things are starting to get steadily realler. We have been tinkering around the edges of what to call you - uniquely, your surname is also up for grabs, as are both mine and your Mum's, too.

We have whittled the lists down to some pretty frickin' ace options. At this remove though, I obviously don't know what we have picked, so this is bound to be enlightening and embarrassing for us both...

As of 15 July 2017, these are my options, with Mum's three-point score alongside. 3 is good:

Boys
Rowan 3
Finn 2
Bear 1
Zander 1
Robin 3
Eric 1
Evan 1
Jude 2
River 2.5

Girls
Mae 1
Robin 3
Rowan 3
Esme 2
Este 1
Beatrice 3
Minnie 1
Stella 1
Zelda 2
Jude 1
River 2.5

I really like Jude for a boy and Esme for a girl today, but it changes a lot. Beatrice is our current runaway winner for team pink, though, and I think Rowan for a boy, or Robin...

Today we readied ourselves for your arrival by... filling in shit loads of forms pertaining, on the main, to our overwhelmingly abstemious lifestyle choices. It is such a good job we have  never smoked, consumed alcoholic beverages or so much as stayed up late, that's all I can say. Of course, the faultless example we have set you over the years can be directly traced back to this wellspring of good behaviour which it gave me great pleasure to document for the midwifes's benefit, and dare I say it, the benefit of medical science in general.

We have also established that we are going for a cloth-based fecal-retention infrastructure, rather than a disposable, plastic-based approach, largely for environmental reasons. Humans throw 12,000,000,000 (BILLION!) TONS OF PLASTIC WITH BABY SHIT IN IT AWAY ANNUALLY! A PLACCY NAPPY TAKES 500 YEARS TO DEGRADE IN LANDFILL!!!

NOOOOOOOOOOO-OOO-OOO!!!!!

By the time you read this, Time Team will be long-gone I assume, but check it out on whatever gesture or voice-based searching thing replaced Google. Now imagine that in 200 years... all they will find is nappies, man. What will they make of us?! No way - I don't care how many washing machines we kill through overwork, we are going cotton. Until about week 3, when we have a massive Exhaustion Breakdown and I run to the shop for plastic cack-britches for you... light of my life.

In all seriousness, you are scaring us a bit. We learned more about SIDS today - it seems you might just forget to breathe while we aren't looking? Seems a little trusting for someone who can't sit up by themselves, don't you think? I will be watching out for you, you little blighter - no funny business, right?

We will look after you though, don't you fret. We are just ordinary people with an extraordinary new challenge ahead, but we are over the moon about it all...