Last night Dave ran out and got pie for us as a last kicking up of the heels in the name of pregnancy cravings. Sophia, and I don’t know how, figured out that we had pie without her after she went to bed. I got the serious evil eye this morning and a firm scolding. She told me, “I can’t believe you guys ate pie without me. You should have called up and found out if I was awake.” Then I had to explain that sometimes Dave and Mommy have, you know, date time after she goes to bed. We watch PG-13 movies and sometimes we eat pie, but that doesn’t mean that she’s not the center of our world. It’s only a couple of hours. It’s “we love each other” time. Oh sheesh, kid! Don’t make me feel so guilty! It’s just pie!
Anyway, it was brought to my attention that perhaps Will isn’t coming out because there’s no need to. If my life consisted of floating around in warm liquid and enjoying piped-in desert, I wouldn’t be motivated to make a move, either. Maybe we need to do a little downgrade to the accommodations and leave more of the good stuff on the outside so he has to come and get it. Come on Will! If you come out here, there’s all sorts of good stuff. Like breast milk! Maybe even a little pie.
You’re due tomorrow. Don’t be late. We’re all waiting.