62 kg

... is freakin' heavy and 63's usually when I pop. I feel it's almost time. I have 3 different EDDs to contend with.18th, 23rd and 25th Nov.The joy (pain) of having 3 different doctors check you out.Place your bets now.

My Belle's very conversational these days. "Who farted?" held the prize for the loudest refrain thus far. NEVER take your kids out to the mall on a gassy day. Sure beats the hell outta stage fright. Yeah, think I turned 2 shades whiter. Yet, regardless of pallor, until someone actually provided her with an answer, she wasn't gonna let up - with every repeated refrain raised a decibel. "Mommy did." I finally hissed at her. She replied, "Awful. Icky." I ought to be bursting with irrepressible pride at this mastery of language but I felt more ostrich-like than peacock.

My Man's the same way.

I thought perhaps the gentle, persuasive, sympathy, empathy way would sway him, ya know, "Hon, you'd hurt her feelings. That's not nice to say out loud. She's old and may be upset."Futile.

He looked at her in wonderment....I thought he was digesting every morsel of what I'd said...learning emphathy with every line I muttered....hell no. Loud as a trumpet just as she approached the bench for her towel right next to him he bellows, "But she IS SOOOO BIG, SOOO FFAAT. [emphasis all his] LOOK mommy, she can't even walk, mommy, LOOOK!"
I just blanked out.

Just zonked out.

Just glazed my eyes over and pretended I was dead but somehow sitting upright next to this monster of a loud-hailer.

I had nothing to say.

If only I coulda run. 62 kgs is too heavy to run. I'd start, then slip and fall....but maybe that would have deflected the embarassment. Saved the situation. Why dint I start to run...