Still no real sign of Cletus. I'm wondering if maybe he's refusing to come out until we stop calling him Cletus.
At least we got out of the house today and went to Richmond Park. Being a lovely sunny Sunday (contrary to predictions), the park was quite full. I hope all that walking will kick something off.
On the way over, I got out the old MP3 player and plugged it into the car. I realised that my "Dixie Fried Rock" playlist is probably completely inappropriate for tiny ears. Too many adult themes. One song that didn't deal with screwin', drinkin' or cheatin' was The Battle of New Orleans (this verison, performed, I think by The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band).
I love this song. I've even sung it in karaoke, in the UK. Followed by an appeal to the better natures of the rowdy patrons of the scariest pub this side of the dogtracks. My appeal went like this "Please don't kill us."
I love singing this song to the Vol-in-Law - "We fired our guns and the British kept a-comin', but there wasn't nigh as many as there was a while ago. We fired once more and they began to runnin' on down the Mississippi to the Gulf of Mexico. Oh they ran through the briars, and they ran through the brambles and they ran through the bushes where a rabbit wouldn't go..."
The Vol-in-Law, despite being a not-reluctant admirer of Ol' Hickory (him being the quintessential Scots-Irishman whose conception place was within walking distance from where the ViL grew up) does not sing along.
And even this song is a little inappropriate. Poor Cletus, soon to be born an Englishman, won't know which way to jump on this one.
0 days til baby Cletus