Dude, we have to talk. Recently, you have caused this little biological adventure to be, well, more adventurous than usual.
First of all, cease and desist with the heartburn, okay? I’d REALLY like to have an esophagus when this is all over with and, if you don’t mind, get SOME sleep in the process. Because of your creative positioning my best friends have become Mr. Tums and Mrs. Zantac and I’ve had to build the equivalent of the Great Wall of China in bed in order to sleep some nights.
Second of all, let’s talk about this creative positioning. I know that right about now you’re really getting a kick out of the whole “indoor soccer” thing, but every time you’re done with your exercise period, you get the hiccups. The first time it was nostalgic. The second time it was almost cute. The 89th time? Annoying. Pace yourself, man. It’s a long race. Think tortoise, not hare.
And speaking of long race… last night and most of today, either you or parts of me were undertaking some, uh, stretching. Or maybe some tightening. But definitely not some contracting. And when you (or I) do that at, say 10:30 at night, it freaks me out a little. And when you (or I) do that for most of the next day, it causes my mind to spin wild scenarios that end up with me laying in bed determined NOT to start watching the clock because these events are most certainly NOT contractions.
(Which they are definitely not.)
So, here’s the deal. Get your calendar out. JULY 26. Get it? I mean, your room is painted, we have some clothes, we could mobilize other things if needed (like getting that damn dresser delivered and perhaps buying a diaper pail), but I’d prefer to stick to the plan, please. Your little lungs need some more time to, uh, bake and there are some folks in Little Rock who would NOT really enjoy getting that phone call, capiche?
Thanks for listening. And following directions. Don’t worry, we’ll have a great time – AFTER JULY 26th. Be good – and enjoy the ride.