Hot summer sun, cool seas washing on bleached beach sands, undersized snapper snapped in the hand of your missus who's grinning at you in little more than a floral frock and a wet towel - the perfect bach weekend by the sea. 
And the beginning of their demise. While our baby's journey has been started by our first summer holiday, so will our perfect summers be ended by its arrival.
Last summer, we had only each other to care about, to smile at, to laugh with. What an amazing time we had! Magic. However, in the balance of life, like all beautiful, joyous experiences, there is a real and incontrovertible consequence.
We conceived. A child is in its embryo, and on its way. It is soon to dive on into this world of suffering and joy, ready for us to nuture it for twenty years.I'm very excited at the prospect, and occasionally apprehensive. Twenty years! Occasionally I find myself considering the consequences of that fleeting summer of perfection.
Baby-swinger weekends away. Instead of carefree camping, we will join other infant encumbered parents, holidaying together in bugproof places, sharing in sleepless nights and sympathy, promiscuously passing around our offspring in the hope of having a chance to get away for a quick snuggle by the sea, a good fish, a snooze in the sun, some moments of freedom lived.
Looking back at the photo above, I guess my wife already knew. That's the biggest wink she's ever given me.
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