Lucidia Lohman

Rogue Bean Hides From Ultrasound Technician

Why is it that these “parents” people insist on monitoring me every few weeks? I have been gestating (officially) now for 26 weeks and 1 day and, to celebrate, my parents took me back to that hospital for more picture-taking. I would have been much happier cuddling up to a baby movie with some nice warm nom noms, but Mom and Dad insisted that they need to make sure that I don’t have cysters in my brain. I think that’s what she called them anyway. At least this time Dad didn’t bring the video camera. Silly Dad… he still hasn’t shown you all my first video, and it’s a shame, because I was really moving the first time around. This time I just mooned my parents. That was funny!

At the doctor’s office, they made us wait in the very loud waiting room for an hour and a half. I think Mom was about ready to pull her hair out, and Dad kept saying in a real loud voice “I wish people would learn how to schedule things responsibly.” (Judge Judy was on, though, so that quieted Mom down. Mom really likes her and said she should be the next president or something.) Before we could go into the ultrasound room to get the picture-taking over with, I had to sit through an episode of some soapy opera and Judge Judy. These shows are so silly.

Happily I can report there are no cysters in my brain or my heart, and the doctor thought so much of my performance during the picture-taking that he didn’t even think it necessary to talk to Mom and Dad afterward. So, yeah, I’m super healthy. I’m two pounds, one ounce. I need to watch my figure, but I love me a good Whopper. Oh, and I ultimately had the last laugh today, refusing to flip over or move into a position conducive to getting a photo of my face. Here’s my foot (ready to kick the ultrasound tech if she calls me a “bad girl” one more time):

I also rode along with Mom and Dad (What else was I to do? I can’t ever get a moment’s rest with these folks!) to pick up a stroller that dad found on some list by a guy called Craig. I learned some interesting and colorful new language as Mom and Dad tried to find the lady’s house in In Man or something like that. I’m glad I live in Spartanburg because In Man is not very nice, according to mom. (Although it sounds interesting: Mom kept saying something about pockets of nice houses and then pockets of not-so-nice houses. Can you imagine entire houses in someone’s pockets??!?! Woah.) Anyway, the stroller looks nice, and I’m sure Isis will get around to reviewing it, just like she is apparently doing with the gifts that people are buying me.

Isis sometimes sleeps on me now. That’s not very nice.

And I now have an affinity for cookies. Sugar cookies, actually.

Don’t ever get nom noms from Dairy Queen either. Their chicken fingernails are very gross, and they put fake toast in the basket to trick Mom into eating wax paper. Dad’s quesadillas weren’t much better, and they had black olives in them! Who thought of that? Dad was so mad. I think he needs to relax more.

Mom and Dad were singing some weird song on the way home about throwing juice and other stuff on the floor. I hope she doesn’t think I’m that demanding, because I would never waste nom noms. Unless, of course, they are chicken fingernails or quesadillas from Dairy Queen. Ick.

I’m sleepy, and my mom’s complaining about her feet looking like they’re in some kind of club. (Cankles, I think she calls them.) I’m sure there will be more posts from my parents this week as they finish up my room (right guys!!!??!?!) and await the furniture that Ba Ba and Pop Pop bought for me to sleep in and be changed upon. This is The Rogue Bean, signing off.

Hey, Mom! Can I get some juice down here!?

1. Kevin J @ 9:32 pm
   on September 10th, 2008
   This is just the coolest fetal Web site that I have ever seen. Man, awesome!
2. dairy queen baby kick | Digg hot tags @ 12:28 pm
   on December 21st, 2008
   [...] Vote Rogue Bean Hides From Ultrasound Technician [...]

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