Hello, babychild. First of all, thank you so much for easing up on the whole vomitting business. Things are certainly more fun this way. Also, I appreciate that you appreciate Cactus Cooler as much as I do. What fun we have together after a tasty sip on ice! It's like Whack-A-Mole, only I wouldn't ever whack you, and I bet (hope) you're cuter than a mole. So, basically, bad analogy all around. It's just that you get so excited and bounce all around in your own private little inflatable playhouse, and I love it.
Had your 40 week appointment yesterday. You may remember that 40 weeks is theoretically the total length of your gestation, and not just a fun little rest stop on the way to becoming the first fetus to graduate from preschool in utero. Turns out I am a champ at providing perfectly comfortable living quarters for you complete with plenty of fluid and a nice, healthy, designer-grade placenta. You're welcome, Floyd.
The appointment involved several helpings of that cold, slimy gel slathered all over my tummy so we could hear and see you flopping around in there. It was worth it, though. You're cute, and we like your heartbeat.
We got to spend some time hooked up to a non-stress test monitor, which was actually pretty interesting. The paper rolls out of an ancient looking box with little jaggety lines all over it, and it's like you are a tiny earthquake or something! You got tasered, Floyd! (And let that be the last time.) The nurse brought in a gadget that sounded exactly like that buzzer in the game Taboo (just to keep things interesting, I guess, since your little heart rate was just too steady and rhythmical) and freaked you right the heck out. Daddy laughed for like 2 whole minutes and says he wants one for home.
Speaking of Daddy, your father said a swear word yesterday. Don’t worry; it wasn't your fault. It's just that after the ultrasound to make sure your swimming pool was adequately filled (check!) we headed to Su Casa for some spicy food because we really want you to come out. Daddy picked a fight with some melted cheese, and ended up with red enchilada sauce splashed all over his favorite white dress shirt. So he swore, which I felt was justified, really, because it is a nice shirt and enchilada sauce is hard to coax out.
I know you can't see much outside of your watery little pouch, but you should probably know that Daddy and I created perfectly adorable living quarters for you outside of my tummy, too. Daddy painted stripes, and I (gulp) put up butterfly decals on the wall. (Decals, sweet child! Decals in my house! It's like I'm finally a real Mormon!) Plus, I made you a quilt. There's even a little mobile over your portable crib in our room with small stuffed creatures that are either bears or dogs (can't decide) ready to dance you to sleep. BearDogs, Floyd! Quick, come see!
Anyway, little lovey, the point is that I understand that you are comfortable in there, and I suppose I can be patient. Please come see us and snuggle us and love us soon. Not to give you a deadline or anything, but the doctor said she's going to break your door down Sunday night and make you come out on Monday if you don't come out on your own. Maybe we could do it together before then, instead. Just a thought. I love you either way.
P.S. BearDogs, Floyd!