I looked down at the small warm bundle in my arms, and watched amazed as the blankets raised and fell ever so slightly with each tiny breath the new-born took. He was wonderful, beautiful. I shifted my arm ever so slightly to relieve the pins and needles and it caused him to stir. I waited with bated breath to see if he'd open his eyes, but instead he just sort of frowned in his sleep and continued to dream. Well I know where he's gotten that from I smiled to myself sadly. It wasn't from me I was an exceptionally light sleeper - a curse in a house with six siblings let me tell you!-, nor did he get it from his mother, she woke easily too and was notoriously grumpy when she did so. No that expression didn't come from either of us but it is one I'd seen many many times over the years. How many times in my life had I been woken by Mum merely opening our bedroom door, while the git in the bed next to mine managed to slumber through even her loudest shrieking? Too many times to count that's for sure.
Yes it seems little Freddie was definitely channelling his uncle and namesake. I wonder if he'll be as troublesome as we were, will he feel the need to live up to his name? I know Mum thinks that's what I want, another Fred another partner in crime, a replacement. But as I look down at little Freddie I know that's not what he is. He's not my brother he's my son, half me and half his mother. And I'll love him even if he doesn't like pranks, and prefers studying like Percy (though I'll make sure he isn't as annoying) Perfect as he is, he is most definitely not a replacement but he can help me fill a gap, and help me move on. He's not that Fred but he's still my Fred.