The Prudish Noodle

Onto the home straight for the WUO (Gut feeling today: how the hell would I know, isn't it kind of like Schrodinger's cat? Prove me wrong quantum physicists.) as we enter the last trimester. By we I mean Knickers, who has shouldered the bulk of the gestation load. You do what you can.

So, I've been talking to Knickers' belly to try and get the WUO used to my voice. Mostly just with creepy Darth Vader impressions, 'I am your father...' etc, and trying to encourage The Noodle to do the same.

Won't have a bar of it. Just backs away from her bare belly shrieking, 'Nuh, nuh, finish, finish.' I don't know if he senses the competition (frankly I don't think he's that developed), feels guilt at being confronted by his mother's stretch marks (badges of honour) or is just a prude.