Being half Chinese rocks

Tonight was Baby G’s red egg dinner, a celebration of a baby’s first month on earth.

Red Eggs

Since Momma J’s maternal grandmother died last year, and with her grandfather not doing so well, we haven’t had too many of these dinners lately so it was really nice to see all of the family.

Oddly, I found it a little strange to be out with so many people. After being cooped up for almost six weeks, a large social event is a little daunting. What bothered me the most was my inability to make descent conversation. I guess a month of talking about boob juice, poop and gas can do that to a person.

In the end I managed to find some stuff to talk about and all went well. Baby G, once again, had a great night out. I must say the kid likes a party. Whenever he’s being held and there is a lot of noise, he crashes out – but I guess most of us would when the people holding you 90 per cent of the time have a warm set of breasts pushed against your face.


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