"You know that scene in the Lion King?" he asks, grinning. I know the one. Even if you didn't raise a 90's born child you'll know the scene , with Simba held aloft for all to see. 'I think I might do that off our balcony', my son jests. He does have that proud Mufasa lion look on his face. When I arrive at the hospital, he gets up to greet me with the baby so fast that he's a blur. His face looks like the face he used to give me when he'd brandish a lego spaceship he just built, but better. They're both on post baby drugs. I remember them. They're freaking cool.

So's my grandbaby. I don't even like babies, but I like this one. Tremendously. Truly. Madly. Deeply. Like, on Friday my heart was in my mouth waiting for the news and when I got the text 'all done! it's a boy!' I burst into uncontrollable tears. I'm an emotional soul. Just ask my cancer moon. But double triple wowsers, what a divine burrito.

This tiny munchkin has pretty much knocked me sideways. I went for a surf this morning so I could process some of this emotion. It'll settle, of course. I wonder why it is I'm so, so in love. Millions of babies are born every day, and I don't even blink. They're noisy, stinky things that people gush over far too much, with no awareness that other people might not appreciate their babies whatsoever.

Biology, perhaps. You look after your own tribe, after all. Survival of the tribe and all that. But a friend points out that's not a given - her own mother shared little interest in her daughter.

The pregnancy was a little bit of a surprise as they believed that they could have children. A welcome surprise that is for sure. People kept saying to me: 'oh, you'll be busy now', as if I hadn't been, and as if I'm suddenly going to be on constant babysitting duties, which I very much doubt. I made cluck cluck noises, but I wasn't that bothered. Sure, it'll be cool, but, meh, you know? Babies. Whatevs. And I'm too young to be a Grandma. No matter my Mum was the same age (ish) when I was born. It's just wierd. If you read my post on Friday, you'll know a little bit about how this moniker is settling on me - just.

So after months of detachment and pretending excitement, along comes munchkin and I'm gonnnnnnnnneee. Maybe it's empathy - imagining how smitten they are, or maybe it's just that I'm finally paying attention, turning my eye to this tiny miracle, this tiny breathing human being that will be ours forever. Or maybe he is the best baby in the whole world.

'Cuppa tea, Grandpa?' I say to Jamie.

'Sure, Grandma,' he replies.

Yeah, we can live with this. We might even do babysitting duties. Jamie can get him to hold a spanner and I'll throw him on the end of my surfboard or in the cabbage patch.

Sounds fun.

Baby River was born on 7th October at 3.21 pm. No name as yet - they are waiting for one to settle. No photos either - they don't want him on social media as yet. Fair play. Feet are allowed. Darling, kissable feet.