You are not the only one eagerly awaiting the arrival of the Comet.
The Star is getting impatient too.
For months now he has been excitedly talking to the bump. He puts his head on your tummy and has conversations with his sister. You do her voice, when she manages to get a word in edgeways, which isn’t often. She’s quite squeaky. The Star tends to shout.
Mostly it goes something like this.
Hello! How you? I waiting for you! I play with you! I gentle! You play my cars! Where you? You coming out? I brother. I big boy. You baby! You small!
Please do be impressed by the Star’s willingness to share his toys. That took a couple of weeks intensive coaching. In the original version, when his sister suggested that he give up his cars, the Star sat bolt upright and said, flatly, and with considerable outrage, ‘MINE!’ You have also been getting all the books out of the library which emphasise the importance of careful play with small and fragile beings. You are not convinced any of this will help when reality sets in, but nevertheless you feel smug that you have tried.
Sadly, in the last week or so, the Star has clearly picked up on your despair of seeing your daughter before she turns 18.
He now only occasionally wonders listlessly over to enquire ‘Why you not coming out?’
And then you both sigh.