Wife is now nine months pregnant. She’s almost at the finish line. Any day now we will meet the new baby, #8. The excitement is building like that of a child waiting to take a final swing at the piñata. The prize is so close, almost out.
Wife is looking forward to be able to see her toes again. She has wondered if they have changed at all during the growth of the baby. Of course toes are not the only ones lost under the expanse of her belly. The children’s toys might as well be buried landmines to her feet. The explosions caused by those toys can be most devastating to both Wife and whosever the toy might belong to. Wife has nearly stopped entering their rooms due the hazards that her pregnant belly hides.
She is also tired of losing children beneath her childbearing ledge. #7 has become almost as much of a nuisance as the toys are. He’s like a footstool rushing forward to head her off and trip her up. Wife in turn resorts to her dancing years with a kind of skip-waddle-hop to avoid the onslaught.
#6 performed his hiding with a more head-on-approach. While Wife was distracted at the refrigerator he slipped under her with the stealth of a cat. However his plot was soon discovered when Wife opened the fridge door and it became familiar with #6’s forehead. Yes, the children will also be glad to see their mother loose her pregnant belly.
I do look at Wife at times and think to myself that she really does resemble a piñata. Swaying to and fro, an enormous prize bundled up inside, a line of children waiting expectantly; except all the beating is done on the inside. The very prize is working his way out into waiting arms. We can’t wait to catch him.