Posted on 24th October 2019
At the age of six years-old, in 1981, I declared to my mother that I was a MAD child.
I’d been sitting on the sofa with my her, whilst my younger sister played with her favourite doll on the living-room floor.
“I just felt a kick.” my mother had said gazing down at her heavily pregnant body. “Can you feel it Mark?” she’d asked, taking my hand and gliding it over her stretched skin.
“Yes, I can feel it,” I’d replied as the baby kicked again.
“You’ll have a brother or sister very soon.”
“Will it be born like me?” I asked.
“What do mean?” She asked.
“Made of Mutual Assured Destruction” I replied.
My mother’s eyes met mine. “There’s no reason why the baby will be born with any difficulties.”
I remember, after she’d said this, looking at her in disbelief.
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