So, I have an announcement to make of earth shattering proportions. Not to any of you I'll concede, but to me at least. Erika is pregnant. So, our little family of 3 will shortly become 4.
The working title of this little ball of genetic legacy is (at present) Pityoka. Pityoka is the Transylvanian Hungarian word for potato (not quite as comical as krumpli, I'll concede). Pityuka (a word which is to all intents and purposes indistinguishable from pityoka to my anglo-saxon ears) is one of the diminutive forms of Istvan (Steven), so it is actually a name of sorts. Anyway, we don't know yet what sex pityoka is, but we won't be calling him spud whatever he/she comes out as. I'm buggered if I'm going to refer to him/her as 'it' over the next few months and I can't be bothered to go through the whole him/her (s)he palaver, so I'm going to toss a coin right now to decide what pronoun to use when referring to the little nipper in this blog. If it's heads (specifically, it says here, Constantin Brancoveanu's head) it's - at least for literary purposes- he; If it's tails (or in this case the side that says 1000 Lei) it's she. Oooh, how exciting.
So, little pityoka is growing rapidly. I know this because I have looked at various websites which tell me so. In fact all of them, without exception, compare the size of one's growing offspring to foodstuffs. So in the very early days she was a grain of rice (basmati? arborio?) and then soon after a lentil (puy? red? - as you can see there's a certain amount of accuracy which is lost though this method). Later she grew to be the size of a raspberry, a cherry tomato and a fig. I think if I remember correctly she's now about the size of a lime. I wonder if they keep this going after she's born 2 years old: Your baby is now the size of a large roast suckling pig. It's just another example of the assumption that all people looking at these websites are not people who would feel more informed by comparisons like "your baby is the size of a ball bearing" and "this week the baby is the size of the knob on top of your gear stick". Still, works for me. Mind you it's easy at this early small stage. What's going to happen between weeks 35 and 39? are we going to go through the entirety of the melon family? Cantaloupe. Now there's a good name.
Obviously I'll keep you all informed about the week's foodstuffs and other fascinating pieces of information about young Pityoka. Erika is feeling like crap most of the time, sadly. (We are told that this may be a sign that Pityoka, contrary to my little coin toss stunt above, is a boy).
If you, the readers, wish to suggest names, donate money towards us buying a larger flat, or knit some socks, please feel free to do so.
[I wrote this post more than two weeks ago, but have held onto it for a while as we have been experiencing some difficulties, which the cream of the Csikszereda gynecological community have been having trouble diagnosing. Or at least have been inexpertly deflecting our concerns. "There's nothing apparently wrong, but you might be having a miscarriage". Hmmm, thanks for the help. I cannot contain this news any longer in my puffed-up paternal chest, however, so since all seems to be stable for now, here it is. Probably Pityoka is the size of a small new pityoka by now. Which is appropriate.]