Even though she's yet to take her first breath of our increasingly warm atmosphere, I'm starting to learn a bit about her nature: She's a cruel joker.
Betsey and I were enjoying a pleasant sunny Saturday morning, and we decided to go get the car cleaned. On the way we saw the ugliest most adorable couple you ever saw. They were at a bus stop, they were facing each other, their hands in the other's, bodies close, completely loving each other's company. It was just like out of a movie, except they were homely.
So we get to the car wash, and surprise, everyone else chose the first sunny day in forever to wash their car. We decided not to idle our car in line (see warm atmosphere problem), and turned around back the way we came. In doing so, it occurred to us that we might get to see this adorable couple again.
Now, here's the thing about driving a car. There are several things you shouldn't do while driving. You shouldn't text. You shouldn't use a cell phone. You shouldn't eat. You shouldn't drink. You shouldn't look out your window trying to spot a cute ugly couple at a bus stop. In the latter case, what happens, is you return to looking at the road and realize you're about to rear end another vehicle, unless you make immediate and effective use of your breaks and the ABS, which I did, and we came to a screeching halt.
So, I'm also learning that a good deal of being a parent, is worrying. The first thing in my mind after the car halted, nay before the car fully halted but as Betsey braced herself against the ceiling, was a fear for my child's safety.
Now we turn to the character of my child. She is undoubtedly brilliant. I have her mother to thank for that. She is undoubtedly funny, and I'll give myself the credit for that. If she's mean to her parents, well that might come from me as well.
She must have figured, "Hey, that was pretty unusual, I bet mom and dad are worried about me. I know, I'll see how long I can not kick mom for or at least reduce my actions."
She's been a pretty regularly wriggly girl since Betsey started feeling anything. So the rest of the afternoon: nothing. So we took her out that night to a Jazz Quintet at Calapooia: maybe a kick. Sunday: a few murmurings maybe. Monday afternoon, she figures she's been funny enough, starts squirming like normal.
I get a text from Betsey. I can breath again. Not funny little girl. Not funny!
We'll have a heart to heart about what's funny and what's cruel at some point I'm sure. Until then, I'm just pleased beyond happiness to know she's ok.
I've told this story to other people. The people with kids always laughed. My boss at work laughed the hardest.
On Monday, before the text, all while laughing, "Yeah, you know, our nomadic ancestors never encountered jarring forces. The human body isn't designed to protect a baby from the occasional fall, bump, or scrape. You should get Betsey in a massive pool and keep her there until the baby is ready."
It actually made me feel better.
So she's 25 of 40 weeks today, and I'm 23 weeks a parent. Thank gods I've got the rest of my life to get good at this.
