So Daniel Peter arrived safely on Thursday 16th January. Weighing in at 8 lb 3 oz he's absolutely gorgeous obviously. Mother and baby both doing well. He was born late in the evening so on the Friday Husband and I scooted off to Surrey to meet him and have our share of cuddles. What can you say about a new-born except that he's perfect in every way?
It occurred to me at some time afterwards that it is likely that not one of our grandchildren will be born in Wales: the first four were born in England and should Younger Son and Nuora have children it's possible they could be born in Malaysia or Italy. However Younger Son, who was born in England and has an English father, insists on being Welsh - to Husband's disgust! - so our grandchildren will have a strong Celtic tie I'm sure.
Husband has always said that if I don't have things to worry about I invent things. A little while ago I woke in the middle of the night and began to think: suppose YS and Nuora have a baby in Malaysia and suppose it gets ill in the middle of the night. They will be on a remotish island; how will they get medical help?
I managed to tell myself not to be so stupid and that babies have been born and survived in the Perhentian Islands for centuries so I've stopped worrying about that but now I have a concern that is potentially even more difficult to resolve.
Suppose YS and Nuora one day have a son and he grows up and plays rugby for Italy. Who on earth would I support when Wales played Italy in the Six Nations? You see what I mean? Huge dilemma.
Strangely enough I only seem to worry about future possible grandchildren rather than the existing ones. Like Husband says, when I don't have anything to worry about I make it up.