It's official. I need fat pants. My child has taken to asking me, "You need yo' fat pants?" And, more specifically, "You have fat belly?" "You love yo' fat belly?"
I feel pretty. No, really, I do. And I love my fat belly. Because for once, my fat belly isn't the end result of a weekend spent in Ponca City feeding at Enrique's and mom's table. As R.J. will tell you, "We gonna have baby." He's excited. That is, he's excited until bedtime when he realizes that someday soon enough (end of September), he'll be sharing mommy's lap and rocking chair.
It's time. R.J. needs a playmate. Someone to love and snuggle, and more importantly, someone else to boss around. Things are about to get more interesting at home and at work. Stay tuned.
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