Which is only fair, isn't it? because my stomach is making my life a little uncomfortable. Less than six week, now, and I'm a little unwieldy and my abdomen has been hijacked by a shaken snowglobe of flurries and currents and rigid figurine movements.
This afternoon the daycare closed early and I went to retrieve my daughters. The younger one was still asleep and to let her stay asleep as long as possible I read some story books to E. EK was the only other kid still there and she unreservedly climbed up in my lap alongside E for our improptu story hour. E attentively listened to the stories as I read and demanded I refocus my attention if I tarried in turning a page or speaking a line. EK ignored the stories entirely as she shone the full countenance of her attention on gently rubbing and poking my big, round belly with equal parts admiration, curiousity and jealousy.
And it was a gift, the belly rubs of someone else's little girl, reminding me that this discomfort is for a very good cause, that there is really so little I hope for and don't have, and more to love is a perfect wish for a new year.