He Kicks...Hard

Monica and I had a Minnesota Christmas at my parents' house. 18 members of the Robertson (dad's) and Ireland (mom's) clans appeared from across the country to gather at the farm for the few days before and after Christmas. It was quite a houseful! While we were there, Monica realized that she had been ignoring what she had been feeling in her belly, believing that what she was feeling was more likely attributable to the wide variety of holiday foods we were eating. But holding her hands on her belly one night while we were home, she became quickly convinced that what we had been ignoring was this baby moving, now big enough to be noticed when he flips and twists and practices for a) cross country running or b) penalty kicks. He appears to like music (in my family, this will help him), particularly bluesy, folksy rock and roll--he'll be invited, though not required, to join his dad and friends' sometimes band, the Pronghorned Jackalopes. He also responds to morse code being drummed on his mother-to-be's belly button...but I've stopped doing that because I'd punch the place where the too-loud sound was coming from, too. More amazing stuff: although I can only imagine what he must feel like to Monica, while we're getting ready to go to sleep, or in the mornings when I "palm" Monica's belly, I can feel him move against my back or my belly and my hands. Let me tell you something. That's cool.