The one in which Panda realises what she's got herself into.

At some point over the last 24 hours, an idea has crystallised in my brain, escaping as a fully formed and coherent OH MY GOD this morning.

I'm having a baby. Like, I'm not just pregnant, but I'm having a BABY. A little PERSON, who will be here in 6 1/2 months. And I'll be expected to look after it. To know what to do when it cries. To know how to change it's poopy bum properly. To know what to feed it. To know what to tell it about the birds and the bees, and whether to let it eat dirt, and how late it can stay out on a school night, and all about illicit drugs and and some point it will turn around and tell me "I HATE YOU! " and then want to borrow the car.....

I'm going to squeeze another human being out of my fanoir and the medicos are going to let me leave the hospital with it, UNSUPERVISED and be responsible for its welfare. For ever. Or until its therapist says it shouldnt have anything to do with me anymore.

I dont think anyone has thought this through very well. When the midwife at the antenatal appointment asked me how I wanted to feed the baby, my first thought was "Oh, we'll just free-range it with the chickens."

Seriously, you should meet my cats. They're all deranged in some way or another. This does not bode well for a happy, well-adjusted Spudly. I am not responsible enough for this job. As Monkey Boy is fond of reminding me. I have no moral authority. None.

And no idea about babies either.

They sleep alot, right?