Today is my dad's 61st birthday. Last year, we celebrated with a Scotch whisky-tasting party. This year, he was hoping for a shared birthday with his new granddaughter. Alas, this one has decided she's quite comfortable where she's at, thank you very much, despite the fact that the calendar says it's time. We were hooked up to a stress monitor yesterday at the doctor's office, as her movement has slowed down the past few days, but she turned and stuck her bum in the air and pushed with her knees and elbows right on cue, sending her heart rate up and reassuring us that all is well. If there's one thing I know about this one, it is that she already sleeps like her papa, all arms and knees and elbows. Hmmm, perhaps a king-sized bed is on my wish list for next year's birthday.
Anyway, sorry I couldn't get you what you really wanted for your birthday this year, Dad. You'll have to take a rain check, while Armando and I will continue to remind ourselves that patience is a virtue and that this bun will come out of the oven when she's done baking. In the meantime, we're looking forward
to a proper (albeit belated) celebration when you and Mom visit later this month.
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