Since the beginning of this pregnancy, I’ve been trying to prepare Piggle for the arrival of his arch nemesis sister. When we snuggle on the couch, I let him rub my belly, and when Sequel kicks, I tell him all about the baby playing soccer in mommy’s tummy. He even follows me on my six trillion daily pee-breaks—though, that’s nothing new.
So far, he hasn’t shown any interest in my uterine-dweller, and goes as far as to feign deafness when I talk about her. It’s probably just his age, but I also have a sneaking suspicion that he’s under the impression that if he pretends not to know about it, she won’t come flying out in a few weeks and take away his only-child status.
Though he acts like he has no idea what’s going on, I have caught him sneaking an interested peek at my ballooning stomach, and the other day, he caught wind of my almost-outie belly button.
He thought it was the bees knees!
Today, as usual, I asked him if he wanted to feel the baby kicking. This was the result—which went on for well over an hour and left me dripping in Piggle-spit.
Piggle has. Maybe it’s a toddler thing, or maybe he really is an oddball. Either way, he always finds a way to make me laugh—even when I’m ready to ship him to Timbuktu.
Lately, he’s been finding very bizarre ways to get comfy. Here are a few of the newest and best:
Piggle is a strange child, and I’d like to think he got a lot of it from me; however, even I am not as bizarre as he can be. Maybe it’s just him, or perhaps all toddlers are odd creatures. Either way, there is never a dull moment when the boy is around.
Recently, he’s taken a liking to extreme dizziness. Possibly because it gives him the perfect excuse to walk into walls and fall on his ass without questioning looks from me. I’ll never know what he finds so appealing about feeling drunk without a liter of booze in him, but then, he also enjoys eating cheerios that have been stuffed in a couch cushion for three weeks…