(no subject)

Warm, breathing air. Funny thing up my nose. Louder than before. Lots of voices.

"He's a bit deformed, isn't he?"
"No mum, he's not deformed, he just has a soft skull and went down the birth canal yesterday."
"Well I shouldn't worry, your sisters were very ugly babies and they turned out all right."
"Thanks a lot."

"Is he my cousin?"
"Yes Abby."
"He's smaller than my dolly! Why does he have a straw in his nose?"
"The tube helps him breathe."
"Do I need a straw in my nose?"
"No, you can breathe just fine without."
"Not when my nose is full of bogies."
"Well it's not full of bogies today, is it?"
"No."
"Good."

"Oh isn't he sweet, I'll have to knit him something as soon as I get back!"
"Thanks, he'll like that."
"But what are you going to do about school dear?"
"Nana, I don't go to school any more, I'm nearly thirty, remember?"
"Oh, of course, I know that."

"He's been stable all night, no signs of respiratory distress or infection. He had a little cry at half four this morning, but we repositioned him and he settled down again."

"Once upon a time, there was a boy called Nanak, who lived in India..."