Dear Littlest George,
I'm so happy you're alive. I'm happy you're moving - it's very reassuring to know that my drinking a moderate amount of coffee and overdosing on political news hasn't killed you. And I really enjoy how sometimes you make my shirt jump just a little bit and I see it out of the corner of my eye, and then I look at Hunter in the middle of the news meeting and give him wide eyes, like, Did you see that? Holy cow!
But baby, the direct smacks of my bladder HAVE TO STOP.
It's that organ just below you, and it was small to begin with. I know it's hard to not hit me there because, well, you live there and you can't see. But I have things to do. Like, editing stories, researching bottles and baby gear, and generally not spending most of my time dashing to the ladies' room for a very, very small payoff. (Well, I don't really dash any more. I walk at a moderate pace. But still.)
I'm starting to get funny looks from people, because my baby bump isn't that big. But don't worry, Littlest George. I blame you immediately. It's called Taking Responsibility For Your Actions.
Always,
Me
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1 comment:
hahaha
I remember those days...and who can forget the small payoff! Wait until the last 6 weeks and you are getting up EVERY HOUR at night. Of course, as I keep saying, it was probably worse for me since I had an amazon baby. Invest in good TP!!
Jules
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