End of the Line

OK kid, so it’s about that time…while I promise we will be patient parents (most of the time), after almost 10 months of baking, it’s time to come out. Technically, you could probably stay put for a couple more weeks, but I wouldn’t press your luck. I may not be as cool as Peter Tomarken, but I can almost guarantee, judging by your mom’s 2 previous posts, someone’s going to get hit with a whammy if you hang out in the womb for much longer.

On those rare occasions when your mom goes into attack mode and it starts raining obscenities, I resort to 3 possible defense tactics (and in case of emergency, use a combination of all 3):

1) Evacuate the premises

2) Start apologizing until said obscenities stop

3) Bribe Mamma G with a gift

I thought if we put our gigantic heads together (you’re welcome Mamma G and Mommy B), we can come up with a solution. Here’s what I’m thinking: you take care of #1 and I’ll handle #2 & #3. Sound like a plan? Alright, hands in...I would say let’s meet at the cord, but every time I touch your mom’s belly button lately, I get the deathstare. That’s not to be confused with the stink eye your big brother Wallace gives us if we make a noise above 2 decibels when he’s trying to nap. Don’t worry, the fatman is harmless; he’s gonna love your sticky hands and all the dropped food.

So no, not the cord, let’s just plan on the left side of your Mom’s belly. The side I always touch when I crawl into bed late at night to check to see if you’re still in there and to prove, despite what Momma G feels like, she’s not in this alone…ya know, when she’s trying to sleep and you’re usually trying to kick your way out of the hiccups?

Alright, here we go. On 3. 1…2…3…NO WHAMMIES!!!