Secrets.

Secrets.

They were all overcome with secrets and whispers, with hands over mouths and talking through fingers. Eyes and eyebrows animated, behind cups of coffee...decaffeinated. The need for all this confidence; was to refrain from tempting providence. They are not allowed to tell a man, until at least the twelve-week scan. 

When that day came they sat me down. My wife and daughters gathered round. With sparkling eyes and lips unsealed, the secret quickly was revealed. They handed me a photograph, they said was baby's Sonograph.

"It has your nose dad, can't you see?"

 I couldn't for the life of me. I twisted it left, I spun it around. I even turned it upside down. No family noses popped out at me, no chins or cheeks to set me free. It looked just like Rorschach's test, so I capitulated...It was for the best. They each exchanged a grateful sigh in acceptance of my downright lie. Very soon anyone could tell, as previously thin Angela, was beginning to swell.

Gestation, with Mother Nature’s collusion, soon reached its ultimate conclusion. On that day, all were filled with joy when out popped Angela's bouncing boy.

"Oh! What a handsome baby boy. He looks like me, oh joy, oh joy."

"He has my lovely bright blue eyes, now isn't that a nice surprise."

They each in turn proclaimed connection, with this wee bundle of perfection.  I tried in vain to stay aloof, but now I had to tell the truth.

“This young chap here within this cot. I know you'll find it hard to spot. Concentrate, and look in close.

Good God! He has his Papa's nose."

©Weefatfella.