Amidst a sea of hormonal nerves, I managed to get my ass into the US room without being carried (it would have been no small feat to carry me), where the US tech promptly squirted the freakishly warm goo onto my belly, when she saw…
A baby. Possibly a Bobble Head, but it had a beating heart so I don’t care how disproportionate it is. Both of my Sausages have satellites where their heads should be (think orange on a toothpick) and I’m pretty used to it by now. It appears that the Sausagebryo is no exception. Huge heads, apparently, are genetic.
It also has a heart that was beating a respectable 160 beats per minute (BPM), apparently geniusness is also genetic. See look at me, making up words. Pure unadulterated geniusness.
The Sausagebryo Link ALSO showed it’s superiority by waving it’s toes at me. It’s tiny shrimpy toes. Obviously it’s as advanced as me! *I* myself wiggled my toes today, too! The Link obviously takes after me.
I am now in possession of a due date to call my own: February 8, which seems a perfect day to be born, if you ask me. I have a July birthday, which means that as a kid, I *never* got to celebrate my birthday at school like the other kids. Apparently, lack of classroom cupcakes has scarred me for life.
All is currently quiet on the Crotchal Front, just the way it should be. I’m weaning myself off my Vitamin W and my beloved Diet Coke, so the next few weeks might be a tad more melodramatic than usual (oh! The HUMANITY OF HAVING TO WEAR SOCKS!). So please bear with your Aunt Becky as she goes not-so-quietly insane.