Your mom and I just took what will be our last vacation as relatively responsibility free adult human beings. Apparently this is called a Babymoon. If having kids were an execution, this would be the last meal.
When we talked about procreation, the one thing we were agreed on was that we wanted to travel first. Your mom was going to take a sabbatical and we were going to go around the world. And then maybe she was going to take a couple months off and we'd go just go half way. And then it was at least going to be a couple weeks and a foreign country. And then we got pregnant before our honeymoon, and well, the upshot is our global circumnavigation has been reduced to three days in Utah, one of the few places you can fly while listening to the person in front of you talk about the celestial kingdom for three hours.
Still I got a couple days of great boarding in amazing snow and your mom got to show her belly to an entirely new audience. We also got to spend a few days with a 2 year old. There's a machine in one of my favorite movies, The Princess Bride, that sucks the life out of victims years at a time. I think they could have just as easily have hooked victims up to a 2 year old. If I'm gone by the time you can read this I suspect it had something to do with the 'fake crying' stage you will apparently enter in your second year. Listening to that on a daily basis will almost certainly lead me to 'stall' my car on some train tracks.
You two have also put an impressive mound on the front of your mom. It looks like if I pushed her over she would bounce right back up, but we haven't tested that. I've taken to calling her 'Mobile Home' since it describes her in function and form. You might think this would upset her, but I've learned that your mom is extremely sensitive about NOT being told how big she is. She constantly walks into rooms demanding to know if I think she looks huge. I've had to answer this question pretty much anytime we left the house for years, and the answer was always 'of course not'. That answer is now very wrong. She is the only female I've ever heard angrily say, 'What the hell do you mean I'm not fat!' In her eyes Mobile Home is a highly complimentary nickname. Clearly, having kids really does change things.
You two also seem to be making her deaf. I'm no anatomist, but apparently the uterus is connected to the ears because your mom has become a serious loud talker of late. We'll be walking through an airport and she'll yell something like, 'Nixon is really sitting right on my cervix', or 'my bladder always feels full, but when I sit down, nothing!' It's kind of like walking around with an old Jewish guy. If it gets any worse I'm going to start walking about thirty yards behind her and we'll just converse via cell phone. Of course, she won't actually have to call me if she has anything to say, thirty yards is like standing next to her at her new volume level. Deaf people can probably hear her updates on the state of her uterus.
Work is progressing slowly. I probably shouldn't have jumped off the novel trail for the screenplay. There are apparently no shortcuts. I haven't measured my vertical lately, but my program assures me that by the end of next week my legs will be strong enough to lift a small car. It really says that. I will try to find one and report back.
Novel - ugh
Dunking - approaching vehicular liftoff
French - Apparently a lot of Au pairs speak Portuguese. Who knew?