Free Odd Socks by Ilsa Evans

the baby!’ David says with a grin as he shakes his son’s hand heartily. ‘Congratulations, mate! And now you get to see what life’s really all about!’
    â€˜Aargh,’ says Eeyore from within her blankets.
    â€˜Nappies, night-feeds, and never having a top without a stain on the shoulder,’ adds Diane, with a curious glance towards the other bed. ‘Speaking of which, David, what have you done with our two?’
    â€˜What?’ David looks around distractedly. ‘Oh, outside in the hallway. Couldn’t get the stroller through the door.’
    â€˜So you left them there?’ queries Diane with a sigh. ‘Chris, Michael – can you go and get the twins out of their stroller and bring them in?’
    â€˜What kept you?’ I ask curiously. ‘You said you were on the way when I rang you hours ago.’
    â€˜Oh, we stopped to grab some presents for the baby,’ says Diane as she unloads the gifts onto Nick’s lap. ‘And you try taking this lot anywhere near a shopping centre! It’s sheer torture.’
    The two boys who had left to fetch their sisters come back in with a dark-haired baby girl each. One of the babies has her thumb shoved in her mouth and is leaning against her brother’s chest placidly, while the other one is straining to get down and screeching what definitely sound like baby obscenities. The twins, Robin and Regan, were born in February and are, I suppose, about six months old.
    My mother chooses this moment to re-emerge, ratherred-eyed, from the bathroom. She shuts the door gently behind her, looks at the now crowded room and smiles happily.
    â€˜Did they tell you what they’ve named the baby?’ she asks eagerly. ‘Go on, Bronte, tell them!’
    â€˜Sherry Rose Woodmason,’ announces Nick grandly. ‘After Bron’s Gran and mine.’
    â€˜That’s lovely,’ says his mother approvingly. ‘You are a thoughtful boy.’
    â€˜So where’s the bundle of joy?’ asks David. ‘Hand her over, Terry, you’ve had more than enough.’
    Although I disagree strenuously, I also realise I’ve got little chance of hanging on to the object of my desire for now. So I get up reluctantly, and David slides into my seat and takes Sherry. My arms immediately feel weightless and uncomfortably empty. I stroke my finger across her face briefly before retreating to the opposite side of the room, where I lean against the corner cupboard. The Woodmasons all crowd around David and the baby and utter various words of admiration.
    Christopher deposits the twin he is carrying on the floor where she immediately flips herself neatly over onto her back. Then, to my admiration, by arching her back and then relaxing it in turn she proceeds to concertina herself along the floor in a slow but steady backward motion. I don’t know much about babies but I do believe this is quite an achievement, albeit an odd one, for a baby of her age. I look over at the wonderchild’s mother and raise my eyebrows questioningly. Diane just grins and shrugs, then transfers her gaze to her mobile daughter, who has now reached the wall and is changing direction.
    Meanwhile, the other twin has also been placed on the floor. However, she is obviously not up to the crawling – or flopping – stage yet. Instead, her brother has just ducked down and thoughtfully laid her out of the way under the bed whereshe can’t be tripped over or trampled on. After gazing at the underside of the bed in opened-mouthed awe for several minutes, the baby slowly rolls to one side, picks up a large bit of fluff, and crams it in her still-open mouth.
    â€˜Diane! Don’t you watch what your children are eating? Really!’
    I turn towards the doorway and there’s Diane’s mother, making her usual entrance with her husband in tow. Rose Riley is only a shade taller than my own mother and about the same age, although