Me: “Mal, leave the cat alone before she gets mad and bites your face off.”
Mal: “Can I bite her back?”
Mal is throwing a shitfit because his racecar backpack is gone.
He can’t find it and he wants it NOW. Like absolutely losing. his. shit.
He’s never owned a backpack.
We were out running errands yesterday and stopped by Walmart to pick up some prints I had done at their photo center to frame and hang in the nursery. Got the pictures, which turned out way better than I expected, and picked up a couple of other odds and ends. The weather was great, we had no obligations and nowhere to be, and overall I was in a fantastic mood.
Until I got to the checkout line.
The cashier looks at me as people so often do these days(going on 8 months pregnant it can’t be avoided), and asks me how much longer I have.
“Oh good!” I think, “At least she’s not another of those telling me I must be due any day now”, which I get….a LOT.
So I tell her I have about 9-10 weeks left.
“Oh wow!” she says, “You are WAY bigger than me and I only have 6 weeks left!”. At which points she points to a belly the size of which I have not seen since mid-first trimester, and on most people looks like she just has a predilection for Oreos.
I get that every person and every pregnancy is different. I get that not every belly is the same size. What I don’t get is what pregnant woman says that to another?? Really?? It’s not enough being reminded on a daily basis how huge I am(thanks!), how there is NO way I am going to make it til August(I will), and how am I sure there’s not 2 in there??(3 ultrasounds say no.) But to hear that from someone who sure, surely should know better? I cussed and ranted all the way to the car, much to Paul’s amusement.
She may have a tiny belly, and probably will have a smaller baby, but I am wishing her some great big ginormous hemorrhoids to make up for it.