I’m not a mathematical person. I’m unusually good at spontaneous inter-currency conversions and the basic forms of add, sub, multiply and divide but that’s as far as my potential goes. I pity my kids. We’ve already decided we’ll need tutors from the first hiccup because my math brain is a mass of recycled grey matter that wants to see more polar bears not fractions.
I’ve been puzzling over this little gem for about a week now, spurred on by something a friend told me about her pregnancy and relationship. Her bump was a shocker, although the careers are established and in her worse moments she has a tendency to ‘blame’ the daddy. Blame is too strong a word here, it’s more like the look you give your other half when you can time the kettle perfectly and are there when it clicks, but they don’t and make your tea with 92 degree water instead of 97 degree. A withering stare. There we go. ‘Witherly’ 😛
But she got me thinking, I treated Hubs the exact same way and now that I’m further down the line with 2+1 in the oven, I recognise the facetious quality that does seriously irritate and sadly demean the other half. God, I am such a hypocrite but they may not be sporting the bump, but it doesn’t mean they’re any less aware!
And in most, is not all, cases, it really does come down to;
1.5 +1.5= 3 !!! (the .5 obviously being the egg or X-fighter) 😀