This, apparently, marked a rare triumph in the existence of a pregnant lady. All but the most fortunate are condemned to endure a small but disappointing leak, which serves as an unfortunate counterweight to the well-documented joy of sneezing.
Ever the opportunistic - but sensitive - chronicler of such affairs, I immediately asked if my wife would mind my relating this event to the interweb. She gave not only her generous permission, but also the suggestion that I include the following advice:
Ladies: always do your pelvic floor exercises.
Thus I discovered the purpose of pelvic floor exercises.
In other, less intimate news, the physiotherapy mooted as the solution to my wife's troublesome pelvis has been rejected, on the advice of her midwife, in favour of a chiropractor. His modus operandum seems to involve frequent but brief appointments, during which he quickly makes everything a little bit more painful than it was. I'm sure he's just playing the long game. It does seem to help with the aftermath of sneezing, at least. My wife is otherwise keeping rather well, and continues to astonish me with the level of productivity she maintains.
Our daughter has been consolidating her abilities at walking and talking. She can now traverse great distances and has begun planning her assault on Everest. She is also more chatty by the day. Happily, approximately 95% of her conversation currently consists of the word "Dada." I shall enjoy it while it lasts. Just a moment ago, she also commemorated my annual shorts-wearing day by delicately and lovingly kissing my knee.
Which was nice for everyone.
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