Regular readers of this blog may have been wondering why it has been particularly irregular of late. Well, rest assured I haven't been knocked down by the 264 bus, I have in fact just joined that exclusive club otherwise known as fatherhood.
Indeed, whereas for the past few months I have been writing on an almost daily basis - no doubt boring you all silly with tales of pre-birth nerves and baby shopping stress - I have been preoccupied of late with looking after Mrs B and our wonderful new bundle of pooing joy. Hence the spare blogging time of my pre-baby days has been inevitably sacrificed for the nappy changing, winding, changing, rocking, watching, cuddling, filming and photographing of our little man.
The photographing and filming have been particularly prevalent in our household as I seem to endlessly follow Mrs B and mini-B around, with hands full of assorted cameras ready to capture every yawn, sneeze and fart for prosperity. The luxury of digital cameras, of course, making it possible to take hundreds of shots of each magical moment. Whether any of them will ever reside anywhere other than on my computer's hard drive is uncertain but, eighteen years from now, at our son's coming-of-age birthday party, I am at least confident that we'll be able to suitably embarrass him with slow-mo nappy changing highlights and a gallery of his best breast-feeding moments.
Nothing could have prepared me for the event - for which I ironically felt so totally prepared beforehand - suffice to say that as I was by her side for the duration, the experience gave me a whole new, infinitely higher level of respect and admiration for her and for womankind.
"Why on earth do we give children presents on their birthday?" noted my utterly exhausted wife, shortly after cradling our newborn son in her arms for the first time. "They should be giving their mums presents for going through this!"
And so I hereby launch the 'GIVE ALL MOTHERS PRESENTS ON CHILDREN'S BIRTHDAYS' campaign. Who's with me?!