The three boxes

The date draws near - and I ain't talking about Christmas.
Ka is growing by the minute and as if that wasn't scarey enough, I'm now filling out forms at work entitled 'Becoming a parent'.
Becoming a parent? When did all this happen? What happened to the last thirty weeks. A short while back I was lounging about at home gassing on the phone about how Ka was preggers and how exciting it all was. Exciting ain't the word I would choose now. Now the word terrifying springs to mind!
All three boxes on this rather official looking form must be ticked by myself in order to qualify for Paterntiy pay.
The first box states that I am the baby's biological father or that I am married to the mother or that I'm living with the mother in an enduring relationship. The word 'enduring' seems quite apt. So, that's a yes to all. I am indeed the baby's father as far as I know. Hopefully there's not going to be any soap like revelations, perhaps as a tram crashes through my living room ceiling whilst I'm reaching for the bon bons.
The second box, 'I will have responsibility for the child's upbringing'. Now that just strikes you with absolute fear. Responsibility? Of a child? Wait a minute here. I struggle to look after myself at the best of times! I went to work the other day wearing odd socks and Ka has already told me that if I ever did that to Baby Reid I'd be for the high jump.
The high jump just for getting some socks mixed up?!
What's going to happen to me if I dress the child in mismatching top and bottoms? The shot putt?
The third box states that the time off work will be to 'support the mother or care for the child'. So even though your getting two weeks out the office, they still expect you to work for a living, and for less pay. Here was me thinking I'd be taking it easy, taking a breather after the hassles of rushing to hospitals, getting my eardrums battered and my hands crushed by a mad, screaming woman.
Anyway, I've been supporting Ka all the way through her pregnancy so that's no big deal. The loyal, helpful husband. When housework duties have been called for, I've been a good helping hand. I've been going into the cupboard and getting the hoover out for her instead of making her get it herself. I've been patiently handing boxes up to her in the kitchen when she's been packing things away, balancing on one of the two legged breakfast stools. I've even helped her off the couch a few times when she's been going to the fridge to get me a beer. Now you can't ask for any better support than that! Surely I deserve paternity pay, just for all that?