Good Morning, Baby

This morning I woke up to little fists (or feet, I still can't tell the difference) pounding on my belly. Wake-up-wake-up-wake-up, she called. I rolled over, hoping to silence this internal alarm. Not to be outdone, she delivered a wallop to my left side and we began a two-step of shift, kick, shift, kick. Then my bladder joined the dance, humming its familiar tune. My stomach picked up the beat, gnawing its way to center stage. My squashed and irritable gallbladder sang a single off-key note. And soon the orchestra was in full concert inside my belly and it seemed a shame to sleep through the show.

Comments

[Mark Shewmaker]

I was wondering how you managed to get out of bed before me.

[Dad]

Whenever I read something you've written I think, "Wow, she should publish this!". This is the beginning of a great story.