crazy people

This morning, Mary and I went to the store to get some windshield washer fluid for my car (yes, our lives are very exciting). A woman in front of us in the checkout line said, wistfully, “Don’t you want another baby already?”

What? Excuse me?

Yes, I’m dying to be nauseated, enormous, and teary-eyed. I’m longing for strangers to try to touch my belly. It’s really been too long since I’ve had heartburn. Too many of my clothes are fitting me. It’s been at least a month since any woman stopped me in a public place to tell me the details of her labor; I miss it.

This time I think I really will invest in a winch to help me get out of bed. I’m absolutely super-pumped about childbirth! In fact I can’t imagine how I’ve managed to last this long without rushing to get a second baby. One creature living in my house and dedicating 90% of its time to producing disgusting bodily fluids could never be enough. I need more!

I’m desperate to spend twice as much money on diapers. Wouldn’t it be great to go back to the phase in which the baby can’t even hold its head up reliably and has to be handled with both hands at all times? And really I’m getting far too much sleep. I miss my days as a sleep-deprivation-addled dingbat. Why, the other day I added three numbers together correctly, which is clearly a sign that I need more to do.

Obviously, that woman is insane.

Also, no other baby could be as cute, smart, and completely hilarious as Mary, so why bother?

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