I’ll patiently wait for that bundle of joy, or is it?
Pregnancy is the finest gift to humankind since long-life milk. I adore pregnancy so much that, if in some peculiar twist, it were to be shared between the woman and her partner, I’d definitely not have more than one child, unless that first one yielded twins. That’s on a light note, though.
But in truth, what else would be more wonderful than a situation that allows me to show love and care to my loved ones?
The joy of it could, however, be neutralised if I have to run errands for her. Perhaps a little bit of cooking here and there will do, but subjecting my people to my terrible cuisine would be a crime against humanity.
And as you might have deduced I fancy not a visit to the matrimonial Hague — where mother-in-law is also the chief prosecutor.
The positives definitely transcend the negatives — the satisfaction that accompanies bringing forth a life outweighs the errands I would have to run.
I take human life to be sacred and believe it is with such noble deliberation that paternity leave was justified.
To the brilliant minds that came up with such ingenious grounds to justify work truancy, forever to you I’m indebted. Better still; my resumption to work shall bear bolstered morale having been reminded that there’s an extra mouth to feed.
Pregnancy is an opportunity to ensure continuity of life. The basic African strategy for getting into a marriage was ‘have as many children as possible’. But with the hard economic situation, that would be as wise as seeking investment guidance from Madoff. Nevertheless, having someone to pass the life baton to comes with a comforting feeling.
But I fault the 21st Century birth process, because women get numbed with anaesthesia that erodes the beauty of it. I’m no authority on pregnancy and I’ll just solemnly wait until the day my bundle of joy arrives.