Life on the Inside

They asked if Baby Jack had a home inside my belly. (Baby Jack may well turn out to be Baby Jill, but you have to call the child something...)

I told them that yes, Baby Jack has a nice, cozy home inside me.

And so ever since, they've been speculating about the sort of facilities he might have.

Does he have a bed? What about a potty? You know, surely Baby Jack must be busy building a log cabin, and a suspension bridge. Every baby needs a suspension bridge.

Perhaps this is why my skin isn't fitting very well.

Last night we finally made use of our community pool, having discovered the reason why it never seemed to be open when it ought to be. The spot where the lifeguard naps when nobody's at the pool happens not to be visible from the gate, that's all. I can certainly understand why he would rest in the shade when there is nobody about, but the situation seems to be rather self-perpetuating. Perhaps this might also explain the heated arguments at the HOA meeting over whether or not the pool was ever open last summer. But in any case, once you figure out that he's there, he does come let you in when you holler, so having solved this mystery, we put on our suits and went swimming.

As she skipped happily toward the door, September paused to pat my belly.

"Baby Jack's going swimming, too!"

I nodded in affirmation. We've talked before about how he's swimming around in amniotic fluid; also, Baby Jack would definitely be coming along on this excursion. I wasn't sure exactly what she meant by the phrase, but one way or another, Baby Jack was definitely going swimming.

Her next question had me flumoxed, though.

I have no idea what color his bathing suit is.

1 comment:

slowlane said...

I think the only wrong answer here is actually the truth... that Baby Jack is swimming without a bathing suit. I'm sure that would certainly start a revolution.

As a side note, I can tell your kids are growing up: they are growing into their birth names (at least in print).