This is how the modern dad blogs. Baby asleep in gruffalo costume draped over one arm in the pose of a Victorian suicide, scrumping WiFi from a cafe. I've spent £2.20 on a latte and I'm downloading about 5gb of audio books. Sorry, cafe in Acomb. Hope you're on unlimited.
Riding the nostalgia train from Warhammer World I bought a copy of Warhammer Visions. With its glossy centrefolds and tiny text boxes rendered in four different languages, the parallels with a European pornomag are pretty clear. The 'Readers models' section further accentuates this. After about ten minutes I realised that, as the baby does not understand anything she sees but does like bright colours, I could 'read' Warhammer Visions to her by describing the pictures.
'Look, darling. That's Archaon the Everchosen, riding a chimeric steed imbued with the power of three of the chaos Gods. Can you count the heads? There's the hellbull head of Khorne, and the head with the feathers is Tzeentchian. And the green frog thing head is Nurgle. Can you say Nurgle?'
She can't say Nurgle, though it would be a good way to literate some of the noises her tiny arse makes. Despite being a creature the size of a housecat she shits like a dump truck unloading five tonnes of hardcore.
When I explained the new picture book in the house to Broodmate she surprised me by being delighted by a photograph of The Glottkin.
I had to check if she was being serious. The Glottkin is a giant, ambulatory, diseased nutsack covered in spines and mouths.
'Yes I'm serious. Look at it! It's even got tiny skulls coming out of it.'
Here's hoping the bab has her mother's taste.