Thinking happy thoughts.

I got it! I got The Wrap. (Thank you, o gifters of Christmas cash!) I love it, though I have yet to try it on an actual infant, with the corresponding screaming and spastic wriggling. Not that this baby is going to scream, ever. EVER.

I'm back at work this week, with an obviously pregnant belly, and I've been getting all sorts of weird commentary. This did not happen the first time around. One coworker told me confidingly that she thinks God put us on earth to have babies, and three minutes later another coworker ominously told me that the second kid is "exponentially harder. EXPONENTIALLY!" and she didn't even follow that up with any sort of cheesy codicil like "but there's so much more love" or whatever, just frowned at me in a scary way. Yikes.

Then, on the bus home, Dutch told me, after a conversation about some neighbors of ours, that she hopes Cook and I get divorced, so she can get new parents.* I laughed out loud, but the people around us looked pretty appalled. I told her she'll have to settle for what she's got. Poor kid.

*For what it's worth, I'd like to reassure you, my reading audience, that this impulse seemed rooted in curiosity and some discontent with the mean things we do to her (like making her take baths), rather than in any sort of fundamental trauma. I'm pretty sure.