But the point is that my womb did the jitterbug. It was all like, "Whoa, there hasn't been an occupant in here for almost five years! What cute clothes. Let's wear them!" And I was like, Dude, Womb, get a life. You couldn't wait to stop wearing those clothes and get back to your normal size and have your baby already!
This baby. Hi baby!
He's, um, not really a baby. He's already asking for money to go
to college on the wagon ride at Wheeler Farm.
And he'll only sometimes humor me with a smile when I point the camera at him. Especially when he has better things to do. Like eat an apple. And feed the ducks. And pet the goats. And play in the tree house.
Yesterday he asked me why all my clothes were in a box. I told him they were maternity clothes. "Huh?" He asked with a puzzled look on his face.
"Oh. When I was a baby in your tummy. So they're your fat clothes?"
Charming, son. Really. Try that one on your wife someday. And good luck with that. Let me know how it works out for you."I'll try it on her," he thinks. "And then I'll flash her this when she least expects it."
Sigh. If that future wife is anything like me, it'll be infatuation, blind adoration, all consuming crazy insane love at first sight.