The Little Dangers

There are dangers of being pregnant.

Now I'm not talking the big ones like falling or car crashes or the scary-worst-case-never-google-about types of fears.  I mean, little dangers

For instance, when left alone with a Chinese takeout menu and a suggestion to just "order something that sounds good," a certain pregnant woman might order over $30 worth of food for just two people.  Well, three if you count a little half-pound fetus as a full person (spiritual definitions aside)

Also, when an amazingly kind coworker offers a full shopping bag of baby clothes that will match season for season with her baby's due date, she may become overwhelmed with gratitude to the point of tears and inability to form actual sentences.

Such gratitude may lead to spending far too much time and money in the beautiful world of Papyrus choosing just what thank-you notes to send both today, and months in the future after her baby shower that is still just in the idea phase.

A pregnant woman may spend an inordinate amount of time with feet propped up, shirt pulled up to the ribcage, staring at her midsection.  This process may or may not include poking to see if she feels any bubbles/butterflies/flicks from the inside, and once that proves unsuccessful, resorting to trying to push back in the belly button that has not been an outtie for nearly 20 years now after an early childhood magical reversal.  This will only likely end when said woman has to go to the bathroom yet again, and/or is discovered by her still sane, non-pregnant husband.


And lastly, this same woman may fall to temptation and share her bed with another.  That is, another pillow.  One nearly as big as her devoted husband, and one who will never reject her spooning because it is shaped oh so perfectly.

Luckily, these are all dangers that so far J-Man seems pretty cool with.  Except possibly the pillow.  Time will tell.