My legs, with all their pregnancy induced varicose and spider veins, look like my Granny's. This makes me sad. And strangely happy.
Sunshine on my belly would make little Fetus kick hard. Or should I say harder.
Books about raising siblings are not as entertaining as Jen Lancaster novels. And they don't teach you anything. "Every child is different." Um... duh. Next!
Having your child say back to you what you say to them can be hilarious. For example, I guess that we must be working on shapes a little too much because about mid-drive when Hudson became all slap happy he would see a road sign and say (in a monotone robotic voice), "WHAT SHAPE IS IT?"
Seeing the Saturn 1B rocket at the Alabama state line made me feel inspired and patriotic; it just made my son say, "Can I ride in that rocket?" for the next twenty miles.
Hudson, who rarely watches a movie, thinks the Walt Disney Magic Kingdom castle at the beginning of their features is a "beauootiful sand castle". And no matter how many times he would watch Toy Story or Cars on the drive, he still would request we "cover my eyes" during two specific (kinda sorta) scary moments.
Kids meals at restaurants really bother me. They are based on the assumption that when dining out children must need French fries.
Hudson believes all blue road signs to say, "It is time to get outta my seat, Mama." Lord help us if we passed a rest stop sign on the way home and he noticed.
While the family is away, the mice will play. A couple moved into our home while we were out. I need to borrow a hairless cat. (Josh and his silly allergies can't handle the other kind...)
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