Lucidia Lohman

Due Date: T+1

Just as I expected, our little cookie/bean/tweeter/daughter is determined to stay put within the confines of Kelly’s “baby box.” Perhaps accustomed—even marginally addicted—to the long nights spent chatting it up with innards (ya know, pancreas… liver… small AND large intestine), relishing the odd vitamin or nutrient that is delivered via umboCord, and generally having the time of her young life, Lulu knows not the allure of the bright lights and the big city (Spartanburg… pffft… for now at least… tomorrow, the world!), and not much that her mom or dad can try to call through the layer of skin, muscle, and liquid shock absorption (”bag of waterzzz”) will do much to change her mind. Nope. Only a full-fledged eee-vic-tee-own will do now, and Kelly has assured me that she’s quite in tune with that (she has the Sheriff on speed dial and has already contacted the IUD locksmithery services to handle that part of the transition).

Still… I’m really looking forward to hearing that cry for the first time, and this waiting stuff is getting maddening.

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