So, my feet have morphed into unrecognizable rectangles lately. We’ve discussed this.
It’s common knowledge in this household that your mama is retaining water like a champ. It’s no big deal, really. If that’s the worst of my concerns I think I’m doing ok.
Anyway, last night, as your Daddy and I were walking up the stairs at the end of the night to brush our teeth and crawl into bed, he says to me, in his best I-grew-up-the-youngest-of-four-kids-and-I-need-to-say-shocking-things-in-order-to-get-attention voice, “Is your BUTT retaining water?!”
He hadn’t reached his orneriness quota yet for the day. He had to add up a few more points while he could.
I have to admit, a loud laugh escaped my mouth before I could snap it shut and pretend to be angry.
I reached the top of the stairs, spun around, and informed your now-grinning-like-an-idiot Daddy that he has officially signed himself up for full-time diaper duty for the first six months of your life.
If your digestion system is anything like his, Babygirl, he’s in for a treat. Make me proud, girl. Make me proud.