Quit kicking me!

Diary of a fetus:

Day 224 of my incarceration:

Woke up at 5am so mom could wake daddy up for work. Poked her in the bladder so she would stand up and waddle to the bathroom to pee. Settled back down for a nap until 6am, when I teamed up with the entity known to me only as either "Gratch" or "Damned cat" to wake her into full awareness and feed us. Gratch got fed first, as always; I must discover his power over her and exploit the method for my own purposes.

The life-giver showers, which soothes me, then eats sweet gruel for breakfast, which by this point in my life I actually look forward to each morning. At least the sugar content makes my amniotic fluid taste sweet.

7:30am: car ride. Vibrations and music are soothing, so I opt to nap again.
9am: this dream is disturbing; I cannot escape! Must jam my foot into mom's right side and push my way out. She rubs and pushes and pokes back, but I resist and jab my foot into her stomach instead. That will teach her to resist me.

Find a relatively comfortable position and sleep until 3:30pm. Want Daddy, but he's not home. Jab and kick mom some more; I must exercise my limbs somehow. Punch her in bladder. Jumping jacks until 4pm, both for aerobics and to force mom to sing me that song from the Jungle Book that I like. Finally get rocked to sleep by her walking and dancing and wait, impatiently dozing, until I can hear Daddy's voice again.
I like him. Can't wait to get out of this prison.

Today's special link: How to Tell if your baby is Kicking after 17 weeks