The Foot Fist Way Baby

This morning when I was still asleep Sugar Lump stealthily pushed his little feet into my rib cage and then woke me up by wiggling his toes, causing an outburst of hysterical laughing.  At least, that is what I assume happened.  The baby kicks are coming on strong now, and apparently I lack any personal decorum because every time he lands a sharp one way “down there” I let forth with a loud yelp no matter where I am.  He seems to take pleasure in whalloping me at the most inappropriate times, relishing in my squeals.

I am noticing patterns, however.

Any time I eat the smallest amout of sugar he pulls out his top hat and cane and starts dancing a la Fred Astair in my womb. While doing squats at the gym he produced a maelstrom of fists and feet, which was a sure sign to me that he doesn’t feel I should be doing squats either.  I stopped immediately…for the baby’s sake.   I’m trying to determine if he kicks in response to my actions, or just whenever the hell he feels like it.

I made a playlist of Beethoven, Debussy, and Mozart and placed a pair of headphones on my belly so he could listen while I read my book.  He responded by digging his heel into my spleen, but then was quiet for the next hour, which led me to wonder if Beethoven puts him to sleep in-utero, will this work when he’s six months old and mommy and daddy needs some alone time?

We have started playing a little kicking game – when I rub my thumb with some moderate pressure on a part of my tummy he responds with a swift kick.  I’ll move my thumb elsewhere and he  follows it.  It’s a highly amusing game for me, especially when I am sitting at a dinner party full of people who are discussing their investment portfolios and drinking wine.  It certainly beats staring out into space, or daintily sipping my water and nodding as if I understand what they are talking about.

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