The name game. Part deux.

5 weeks to go and it’s time that I won the naming dispute. Here are my tactics:

1. Pre-birth, but heavily pregnant.
   Small but extensive ammunition available to use against my beloved. General (but extreme) discomfort, Braxton Hicks contractions, hormones (equalling spontaneous explosion of tears timed conveniently to appropriate conversation) and looking like a Christmas pudding on legs. All of this means that Matt’s attempt at advancement is akin to him walking through a heavily laden minefield.
   
   
2. Labour.
   Similar to me possessing a nuclear bomb and him coming to the battle armed with a blunt fork. Should be in the bag shortly after this, particularly if I’m strategically blood-spattered.
   
   
3. Post birth.
   Baby blues, night time feeds, bleeding nipples and stitches. All heavy duty grenades that will eventually destroy the opposition (erm, I mean my gorgeous husband...)