and so it begins
something fishy this way comes
so i am a little worried about the missus right now. the baby is a good, like, three or four or seven months from being born (what me in denial?) and already mom-to-be is FIGHTING WITH HER UNBORN CHILD. don't get me wrong, it's funny as all getout. but it's not a little bit disconcerting either.
take, for example, last night at the nice guy dinner table. i'll set the scene for you -- we are eating a splendid vegetarian chili cooked by my wife's breathtakingly gifted and handsome husband. halfway through the meal and about five seconds into a lull of conversation, mrs nice guy jolts upright and exclaims: ow! motherfucker! knock it off!
mr nice guy: what?! i didn't even touch you!
mrs nice guy: the baby keeps kicking me!
mr nice guy: oh how sweet. it brings a wee tear to my eye to see you and our child bonding in this way -- tender movements from within are truly god's gift to the pregnant woman. i envy you.
mrs nice guy (to her own stomach): CHRIST! STOP ALREADY!
mr nice guy: aw, it's kicking. i think it's cute. let me feel!
mrs nice guy (still to stomach, not unlike a raving street person with whom you would avoid all eye contact but can't help staring at nonetheless): I SAID KNOCK IT OFF, GODDAMNIT! i think it just ruptured a kidney.
basically you get the picture: mrs nice guy has gone insane. no. wait. i mean, she is becoming a mother: she appears to be totally off her rocker, yes, but her ranting does have some irresistible internal logic. she is standing her ground firmly, like a warrior disciplinarian, laying down the Law. meanwhile i, the father, duped by my child's own cuteness, remain clueless to the real story.
and what, you may wonder, is the real story? well, obviously, the fact that mrs nice guy and the squidbaby are fighting this much already is undeniable proof that we're having a girl. the mother-daughter wars appear to have begun in earnest.
ok, maybe that's a stretch. but we can definitely say this for sure: the little shit, whatever its sex, is already pitting its parents against each other. mrs nice guy yells at her stomach; i try to console her while choking back hysterical laughter at her crazyladyness; she yells at me. and here we were, convinced at the last ultrasound that the baby's kicking itself repeatedly in the head was proof of some cognitive shortcomings. how naive! we clearly have our work cut out for us.