Baby dreams can come true… Our baby boy has already uttered his first word.
It was “fudge”.
He said it to Barbara Windsor who was cruising down a river of gravy in our green wheelie bin.
And he shared the fudge with the cast of Towie and Frankton’s parents…
… and then he woke up.
According to this article published at Parents.com, our unborn baby can dream. What is more, he’s been doing it for the last week or so.
At 32 weeks our Tummy Rascal began to dream. But about what!?! His world is pretty dark. It’s a womb without a view.
(This is in no way a criticism of Kerri’s womb. It’s a gorgeous womb. In not-at-all honesty, it was one of the things that first attracted me to her; her sexy womb.)
So if, as scientists would suggest, Little Fella IS dreaming away then it can only be about the things he’s heard. Surely?
Given that and thinking back to yesterday, I have surmised that the only dream he could really have been having was about all of the above and…
(I am writing this quickly and excitedly as it has just sprung to mind…) He was moving a LOT last night. He was moving in a way that suggested he WAS dreaming about someone slaloming down a fast-moving river of gravy. Up, down, all around.
So it is true after all.
But what about the fudge? Have we been responsible parents talking about, and eating Cornish fudge when he can hear every word?
Hmmm… turns out he will probably inherit his father’s lack of budgeting skills.
But… in his dream he was sharing it with others, wasn’t he? That’s the name sorted. (If his Mum likes the name Robin Hood too.)
Dreams of the Future
Whatever he is dreaming about at the moment I hope he wakes himself up laughing, as I have often done. They’re the best dreams.
I also hope he’s never too disappointed by his dreams when he opens his eyes. Just as I was when I was four and having a dream about being Knight Rider; only to wake and feel quite gutted that it wasn’t real.
Mainly for now and the next few weeks, I hope they’re influenced by the sound of his Mum and I laughing. (As well as her doing her impression of Babs.)
And at 33 weeks, this little fella we haven’t met yet is having a creative time before he’s even entered the world.
It sounds like a happy, positive, carefree foundation to build on.
Although the poor little chap is going to be gutted when he realises his Mummy’s breast milk doesn’t taste of rum & raisin.