Friday, 2 December 2011

The Unborn... they grow up so fast...

So I've mentioned before my penchant for overly-dramatic emotional reactions for fun and profit husband-confusing.  I once possibly emotionally scarred a concession stand employee at a movie theatre by tearfully demanding to know if his question of "Diet or regular?" was an attempt to call me fat.  I pre-enacted a "drunken" bridesmaid speech that devolved into sobbing declarations that I would die alone in a house full of cats.  My shenanigans are funny to me.  And to the people that call me their friend.  And mostly to my husband, except for when I do too good a job and he worries that I might be serious- at which point I carry on for a few more nerve-wrenching seconds before declaring victory.  Victory!  Pass the Oscar, baby.  The best part about Ross is that usually he will play along.  We end up doing "bits" that make us laugh and devolve into the farthest reaches of silliness.  Sometimes we are able to reach glorious levels of comedy (of a dark nature) that catches the attention and WTF-ness of passers-by who happen to overhear us.

I've always reserved the right, as a woman, to ooh and aah over adorable baby clothing and accessories.  Before Ross and I even began trying, I would point out teensy things in windows and force him to agree with me that they were indeed "soooo cute".  One day (we might have already pulled the goalie, but possibly not) I pointed out something particularly squeee-worthy.  Ross just looked at it and said "I don't think it's the right size".  Because it is one of his bits to respond to my babywearcrazies by pointing out that said item would not fit me, I went on about how it was the cutest little outfit evar.  He said "We could go in and see if it comes in 'non-existant'".  I looked at him with hurt in my eyes and exclaimed that I didn't know how he could be so heartless.  Just because our baby was imaginary was no reason to claim she didn't exist!

**and scene**

Just the other day, the Manchester Christmas Market officially opened.  You guys know how we feel about the macaroons available at the Market, so we headed down to get our first snowballs of coconutty yum of the season.  I wondered allowed if the baby would like them- meaning if he'd do any dancing in my belly after I'd eaten them.  Ross replied that, "Uh, of course he will.  He's our son.  And he's awesome.  And why wouldn't he like THE BEST MACAROONS IN THE WORLD?!"  As we walked around I started to envision next year.  I thought about how we would bring our son with us and show him all the sights.  We would feel the cold fresh air on our cheeks and explore all the little booths full of delightful treasures.  I got really excited about all the fun things we could show our son.

The heart of the markets, in front of Manchester Town Hall

Ross pointed out that next year we could let him try a macaroon of his own.  My first thought was "NO!  He'll be too young for solid food".  Then I realized that at the end of November next year, our little baby will be almost 9 months old.  That's definitely old enough for bites of solid food.  This realization hit me like a ton of bricks.  I literally stopped in my tracks and cried out, "Why are you trying to make my baby grow up so fast!"

I think I was kidding.  You know... like those other times.  (But only sort of.)

Do you ever get freaked out by thinking ahead an realizing how fast time will fly?
Have you ever emotionally scarred a minimum wage service employee?
Does your significant other play along with your insanities?

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