…I can think of nothing else but meeting this little boy.
I can’t walk into a bookstore without almost-buying Ferdinand the Bull or a Richard Scarry book (…remember those…? anyone?); I can’t go on the internet without checking (again) on what’s happening in my body this week; I can’t walk through the nursery without running my fingers across the baby blanket.
The kicks are turning into pushes, and two nights ago we felt what we were sure was a foot. Kendrick touched it, and it jumped back, then kicked out at us again.
