Dear Bump, right chuck it. It’s a bad day when even I’m feeling sorry for the wife. Stop making your mum this sick or it’s the naughty womb for you (what? I can hardly send it to the naughty step or anything else can I? What would the equivalent threat be? “Right, off the pancreas for you”?)
Either that or judging by “the sicker the mum is, the fitter the child” you’re going to be an Olympic gold winner and astronaut all before you’re 14. If you pull that off, we’ll call it quits on how ill you’re making your mum.
(oh and lesson learned. No matter how casual a joke you think you’re making when you say it. “By Christ, this pregnancy’s taking it’s toll on you” is never a line that will endear you to the other half.)
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