First of all, I would like to thank the collective artists of nineties' grunge for making a vast array of music that reliably puts newborn babies to sleep within the first couple of verses - if not bars - of each song, and keeps them that way. Then, I would like to curse the collective artists of nineties' grunge for adding so many swear words and adult themes to their music that I can't play it in front of my toddler for fear that he will start singing his great-grandmother rather colourful pieces about masturbation.

**

I would like to say that Surprise Baby is more settled than The Prata Baby was at the same age, and to some extent I think that's genuinely true. Number of times she has screamed as if having a limb amputated whilst preparing to dirty her nappy: zero, just to choose one example. But undoubtedly part of it is the benefit of experience, that is, mine. It works in two ways. Most directly, I have learned a trick or two. PB was - what? - six or perhaps even eight weeks old before we discovered the magic of grunge, whereas this time we have enjoyed its benefits from the very beginning, even if we have had to scramble to clean up the playlist a little. Or a lot. But even where things are unfolding much the same as before and there's little I can do to alter them, I find myself better off. For instance, when the Prata Baby was three weeks old, I suffered constant frustration due to my unfulfilled expectations of daytime naps. This time I have no such expectations. I am, therefore, experiencing a relatively benign sense of resignation as I walk continuously around the house wearing SB in a sling, wishing I'd bought the for-radio version of International Superhits! by Green Day. As if "bleep masturbation" is really a more suitable serenade for Great Grandma.

**

So far, PB is adjusting well. I have heard a lot of people advocate age gaps of less than two years because you don't want your eldest to "get used to" being an only child. I have concluded that this is bollocks. There are good reasons in favour of small age gaps, and perhaps the above is a fair reason for not wanting an unusually large gap, and at the end of the day I find the whole "ideal spacing" discussion kind of tiresome and irrelevant on account of the infertility and the being glad to have subsequent children at all, but I distinctly remember PB screaming in anguish when, at fifteen months, he saw me holding someone else's baby, whereas these days he seems more or less fine with it. At less than two years, PB desired my exclusive attention in a way he just doesn't anymore. These days, he is Mr Independent, Mr Helpful, and Mr Sociable all rolled into one. His catch phrases are, "I want to do it by myself!" and "I want to help!" and "Hello! Come play with me!" Far from being "used to" having the household to himself and peeved that this is no longer the case, he is, instead, at an age where he is developmentally ready to share life with a younger sibling. Or at least one who spends a large part of the day sleeping, and who doesn't try to play with his toys. I'll let you know how this pans out over the medium term. If things deteriorate, an unedited grunge playlist may not be the biggest threat to our social interactions with Great Grandma.

**

We are fine here, if busy. There's only a few weeks left before Mr Bea and all our household goods leave for Singapore, and the rest of us leave for my parents' house. We'll be following in early May, the idea being that Mr will have organised a house and unpacked at least the more vital of our possessions by then. I'm already behind on blog news, I'm likely to get even further out of touch over the next few months, and for both those things I apologise. This community has meant a lot to me, especially the continued friendship and support I've received during this too-good-to-be-true journey to our second child, and particularly considering what some of you have been through over that same period of time. I'll do my best, and we'll catch up properly sooner or later, though I hope it's sooner. In the meantime... you know, there should be a reference to a nineties grunge song here, but they're all so angry, and these days, I don't have a reason to be.

There's a new post up at Prata Baby, too.