The deadliest, jelliest site ever. Brought to you by Niamh Shaw

The parents have had Finn and I on a grueling schedule of public appearances, performances and photo ops. We’ve met the bowling club, the women’s group, four of the neighbours, the new rector, his wife, Edel, Áine, Vincent, Dolly, and Finn’s Uncle Eoin.

Who the hell are YOU?

Mum occasionally tucks Finn under her arm and takes him off visiting.

We are quite exhausted – and I mean that literally rather than a euphemism for checking into rehab for substance abuse.

Last week, Mum said, “Shall I invite Fiona and Pat around for afternoon tea tomorrow?”

“Oh, ah, sure,” I replied. “Although I was kind of looking forward to having a free day-”

“Oh, you won’t have to do a thing,” said Mum, “apart from turn up. You and the baby. Hmm. Should I ask Angela and Mark?”

“Who?”

“Angela and Mark. Sure, I’ll give them a ring. They might not be able to come.”

As it turned out Angela and Mark were delighted to attend – along with the fourteen other people my mother invited.

I’ve been so proud of my little boy who has had literally tens of people all up in his grille and just beams good-naturedly as he’s passed around, jostled and jigged and cuddled. He has utterly charmed everyone he’s met.

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