Noah's ball bag and other life lessons.

There are a number of things that people don't tell you about before you have children. The last five and a half weeks have therefore been a steep learning curve for me. For example, when he was born, his balls were huge. They were like cartoon balls; like a caricature. I had to put on a smiley face and pretend I thought nothing of it for fear of judgement by the nurses who all seemed nonplussed by his ample testicles.
I later learned that this has something to do with hormones.

Okay, okay, nothing to worry about. Then there is the constant drenchings in piss that occur bi-daily. The poo. Oh god, the poo. Cheryl has taught me the importance of having everything to hand and ready before jumping in the deep end (almost literally - deep with bob) and changing his nappy. Being caught off guard, mid-change, by a brown Mr Whippy torrent when you have both of your hands tied is a life low point.

Everyone says fatherhood changes you. Damn right it does. It makes you stink of poo and wee and makes you second guess the size of your own genitals.