Monday, April 24, 2006

My son

It's amazing how much can change in a few months. Back in February, as I'm sure you recall, 3B was certainly more than a twinkle in our eyes, but he was just starting to make his presence known.

Today, on the way to the Metro station, Mama gave a little gasp, looked at me and said, "Your son just kicked me in the ribs."

Just like that, he's my son. When he's laying there quietly, or just rolling around, he's "our son," but as soon as that foot cracks against something solid and painful, he's all mine. I tried to explain that since Mama's the black belt (second degree, no less--I have to brag about it because she never will), any ap chagi or any other kind of chagi is coming from her side of the family.

No dice.

Oh well, it's nice to know that there will be some times when I'll have him all to myself.

1 comment:

  1. I've never been kicked in the ribs by a fetus, but this woman has, and she wrote a poem about it: