March 12 continued…
Your Dad goes home, quietly opens the front door, the house is in silence….accept, is that the upstairs toilet running – could it have been flushed by a truant or two? Your Dad steals upstairs, quiet as a mouse, goes to The Pretty Little Dutch Girl’s bedroom, opens the door – the light is off but he can see the bed made.
Is it his imagination or did the closet door just move? In a couple a strides, he crosses the floor, grabs the closet door, slides it open and there is our The Pretty Little Dutch Girl and Ralphi, trying to hide behind her clothes but their legs were visible.
Lucky girls – they get to spend an afternoon being lectured by Uncle John. Even Physical Education would have been better than that. Oh, and there is more – since home is so inviting, The Pretty Little Dutch Girl won’t be leaving it all weekend. She gets to spend most of it playing board games at the dining room table with us as well as catching up on the work she missed on Friday. Then there is the ever to look forward return to school with her Uncle, wherein she has to once again swear on a stack of Bibles she has no clue why she skipped but it will never happen again. And if anyone believes that, we got some swamp land in Florida to sell you.
March 27
Dear Baby, sometimes it feel you are you really just a bunch of hyperactive popcorn, little kernels that bust in to life, moving in all directions at once, filling my womb with life. It was especially front and centre in my bath tonight, as the little kernels grew into full being, poking my tummy, or were you teasing me with your tiny fingers and toes? I called your father to enjoy your antics but like a typical child, you retreated. The show was obviously just for you and me.
March 29
Our third ultrasound is scheduled. Now that it is confirmed there is something not quite right, we will have to go though theses ultrasounds every 4 weeks. Good news is there is only 3 ½ months left if you are born on schedule – July 13 (Aunt Irene’s birthday). I am hoping you will wait a day and be born on your Grampsey’s (a name you chose for him) birthday. Only God knows.