My youngest kids are finally getting the idea that there is a baby—not an image, or a concept, or one of those weird grown-up stories, but an actual human being—inside my belly. They can tell it’s true, because they can see what is unmistakably a little baby butt, bopping around about 18 degrees northwest of what used to be my belly button.
“But—” asked my kids, “But how is there room in there for a whole baby?”
Well, I’ll tell you. There isn’t. There is no room. My midwife said today that she thought baby was “maybe a little on the big side.” Hearing that was like passing a highway sign that warns, “LOW FLYING AIRCRAFT.” Thanks for letting me know, but what am I supposed to do about it? Duck?