That’s right, my little TJ has finally grown enough to reach my insides! I am hugging myself with excitement. The baby-fruit emails have been talking about belly-flutterings for a while, and though I’ve had the occasional shifting around down there, it’s never been strong enough to know whether it was baby or supernoodles. And I’d believe anything of my digestive system at the moment, so I wasn’t convinced. Yesterday at work it felt like a butterfly was travelling from one side of my stomach to the other, and I’m sure supernoodles can’t do that (or butterflies, for that matter, which is a relief, because I don’t like things that flap). Just TJ, passing the time with a few star-jumps. Work is pretty boring for him. He doesn’t think being a grammar Nazi is his calling in life. Wait till I sew a semicolon onto his first baby vest, that’ll learn ‘im.
He’s spent today poking me every now and again from the inside, to remind me he’s still there. Or perhaps he’s cross about the fact that I keep calling him ‘babushka’, which sounds like it should be a derivative of ‘baby’ but actually means ‘old woman’ in Russian. I am trying to stop. But have you heard what ‘baby’ sounds like in Russian?! Doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue.