…And the Hits Just Keep on Comin’
So Saturday morning, having not over imbibed the night before, I watched the 6am sunshine creep across the ceiling.
I contemplated turning on the TV and watching the early news, but decided that sleep was still within my grasp, so I snuggled next to P.Pie and closed my eyes. I drifted in and out of sleep for awhile – not asleep enough for full dream, but enough for a quickie dream about falling down stairs that makes you flail your legs under the covers.
So there I was, almost asleep, and P.Pie grabs my hand and places it low on her increasingly protruding belly.
“Hmmnn?” My eyelids fluttered as I cradled her belly.
Something swiftly met my touch and was gone. Suddenly I was wide awake and sitting up.
“What the hell was that?”
P.Pie rolled onto her back and told me Twin B (our boy) was active this morning. P.Pie then went on to make comparisons to football kickers and soccer players.
Sports analogies are all well and good. But I’m looking for something with a little more, well, kick.
What about a Ninja? Or an Ultimate Fighting Champion? Or maybe even a striker buster.
Okay, that one went a little too far.
Soccer player and football player seem a blasé for such a miraculous event. This small person has made his presence known to the outside world by pushing his boundaries. He's already raging against the man. Or the mom.
Boy, do I love these kids.