Bend it like Beckham
I had a ball last night, kicking my mom’s organs around. I didn’t kick so hard as to make her cry, but enough to make her whine. Secretly, I think she was fascinated by it.
And this morning I was all innocent and demure, sleeping peacefully while the technicians were trying to get a rise out of me for the growth sonogram and for the non-stress test.
Today my estimated weight is 6lbs 5 oz. Technically, I guess I could come out and play. But no, I have to stay in for 4 more weeks. Yeah, got it. 4 more weeks. Should I listen, or play by my own rules?