Timisms

I spent a good chunk of yesterday before work taking care of some non-furniture baby-related things. While I missed my trusty screwdriver, I was able to make some phone calls that I had planned to make last week but postponed due to my scratchy throat and hard-to-understand voice. Some of these calls were to pediatricians that have been recommended to us, but I needed to see if they accepted our insurance, what we needed to do before the baby arrives, etc. We narrowed it down to one pediatrician, and as I was talking with Tim about it, he told me that he doesn't expect the baby will ever be sick. Then, the following conversation:

K: "Well, even if she's not sick, they'll still want to see her on a fairly regular basis for the first year or so."
T: "To check for wear and tear?"
K: "Uh, no."
T: "To make sure there are no kitty puncture wounds?"
K: *silence*
T: "To look for signs of kitty headbutting?" (This is prompted by Mario's headbutting of a life-like baby doll that Tim presented to him on Monday.)

Maybe I need to send recommendations for us as patients to the pediatrician instead of the other way around ...

* * *

It has recently come to my attention that my husband is going to be one of *those* people. You know, the kind of person who wakes up a baby just to play with it? And does so knowing that later, when the baby is cranky because it was woken from a nap, he won't have to suffer the consequences?

This shouldn't surprise me, considering how he acts with the cats. But Tim often puts his hand on my belly to feel the baby move. But if the baby isn't moving, he'll pat my belly, kind of like he's dribbling a basketball. And more than once, the seemingly dormant baby has become an active ball of activity ... one that kicks me, flips from side to side of *my* stomach and suddenly wants to party and not settle down.

We're going to have some adjusting to do, folks.