(no subject)
Oct. 17th, 2013 09:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
guppy_sandhu'Dear Dr Sandhu,
Your appointment for your vasectomy is on 25th October at 10.00 under local anaesthetic...'
"Do you think we're doing the right thing?" Guppy asks, putting down the letter. "You're quite sure you don't want a fourth. Because you said before you might."
Fran straightens up from loading the dishwasher.
"I did. But your logic rubbed off on me. We have three wonderful healthy children, we've been lucky. We might not be so lucky next time, especially if we have another premmie."
Guppy nods. It was his own reasoning. He loves having a houseful of little people, but the odds of a preterm baby are massively stacked against them. After Brooklyn, Fran's GP had also advised they stop while they were ahead - heck, she'd been told to stop after she nearly died having Coral. Both their GPs had advised they wait a year at least before the surgery. With Brooklyn fast approaching her first birthday, they've finally made it up the waiting list.
"You don't have to have it now if you're not sure." Fran adds. "It's permanent after all."
"No, I think it's sensible." Guppy says, folding the letter up and putting it in his pocket, as the older two children come into the kitchen. Fry is scowling, and thrusts an exercise book at his father.
"You told me the wrong answer!" he says, indignantly. "I got a cross."
Guppy blinks at him, and opens the book to the latest page. He can't remember Fry asking him a homework question yesterday.
'What is a terraced house?
A terraced house is for criminals who hurt peeple to scare them becos they have difrent ideas. They have to live close together becos prizon is full.'
"I'm pretty sure I didn't give you that answer." Guppy says.
"Yes you did, I asked what a terrist is and you said it was a criminal." Fry says, indignantly.
"...ah, sorry. I thought you meant something else." Guppy says. Well that was an awkward discussion they could have avoided last night. "Never mind, you got the other ones right."
"Teddy got a star for getting them all right." Fry says. "I would have got one too."
"You have many stars." Guppy says, giving him the book back. "Better luck next time... Coral, what are you doing with that washing up liquid?"
He looks over at his daughter, who has just squirted a large amount of fairy liquid down her uniform.
"Oh Col, no!" Fran confiscates it.
"I need it!" Coral whines.
"That's not what you use to wash clothes, and before you squirted that all over yourself you were perfectly clean." Fran says, trying to sponge it off her jumper.
"I'm not... I've got..." Coral leans forward and whispers it in Fran's ear, while Guppy tries not to smile.
"Coral, cooties aren't real." Fran says firmly.
"Don't tell them!" Coral wails.
"You've touched me with cooties!" Fry shouts, pointing at his sister. "Now I'll have them!"
"Hey hey hey, kids, Mummy's right, there's no such thing as cooties." Guppy says, holding up his hands.
"What about Girl Disease?" Coral asks.
"None of that either." Guppy says firmly.
Fry relaxes slightly.
"Oh good. If cooties and Girl Disease aren't real, I can stop worrying about nits." he says, taking his book and walking out.
Guppy looks at Fran, in a shared expression of horror.
"Rock paper scissors for who has to go through Fry's hair with a nit comb?"
Your appointment for your vasectomy is on 25th October at 10.00 under local anaesthetic...'
"Do you think we're doing the right thing?" Guppy asks, putting down the letter. "You're quite sure you don't want a fourth. Because you said before you might."
Fran straightens up from loading the dishwasher.
"I did. But your logic rubbed off on me. We have three wonderful healthy children, we've been lucky. We might not be so lucky next time, especially if we have another premmie."
Guppy nods. It was his own reasoning. He loves having a houseful of little people, but the odds of a preterm baby are massively stacked against them. After Brooklyn, Fran's GP had also advised they stop while they were ahead - heck, she'd been told to stop after she nearly died having Coral. Both their GPs had advised they wait a year at least before the surgery. With Brooklyn fast approaching her first birthday, they've finally made it up the waiting list.
"You don't have to have it now if you're not sure." Fran adds. "It's permanent after all."
"No, I think it's sensible." Guppy says, folding the letter up and putting it in his pocket, as the older two children come into the kitchen. Fry is scowling, and thrusts an exercise book at his father.
"You told me the wrong answer!" he says, indignantly. "I got a cross."
Guppy blinks at him, and opens the book to the latest page. He can't remember Fry asking him a homework question yesterday.
'What is a terraced house?
A terraced house is for criminals who hurt peeple to scare them becos they have difrent ideas. They have to live close together becos prizon is full.'
"I'm pretty sure I didn't give you that answer." Guppy says.
"Yes you did, I asked what a terrist is and you said it was a criminal." Fry says, indignantly.
"...ah, sorry. I thought you meant something else." Guppy says. Well that was an awkward discussion they could have avoided last night. "Never mind, you got the other ones right."
"Teddy got a star for getting them all right." Fry says. "I would have got one too."
"You have many stars." Guppy says, giving him the book back. "Better luck next time... Coral, what are you doing with that washing up liquid?"
He looks over at his daughter, who has just squirted a large amount of fairy liquid down her uniform.
"Oh Col, no!" Fran confiscates it.
"I need it!" Coral whines.
"That's not what you use to wash clothes, and before you squirted that all over yourself you were perfectly clean." Fran says, trying to sponge it off her jumper.
"I'm not... I've got..." Coral leans forward and whispers it in Fran's ear, while Guppy tries not to smile.
"Coral, cooties aren't real." Fran says firmly.
"Don't tell them!" Coral wails.
"You've touched me with cooties!" Fry shouts, pointing at his sister. "Now I'll have them!"
"Hey hey hey, kids, Mummy's right, there's no such thing as cooties." Guppy says, holding up his hands.
"What about Girl Disease?" Coral asks.
"None of that either." Guppy says firmly.
Fry relaxes slightly.
"Oh good. If cooties and Girl Disease aren't real, I can stop worrying about nits." he says, taking his book and walking out.
Guppy looks at Fran, in a shared expression of horror.
"Rock paper scissors for who has to go through Fry's hair with a nit comb?"
