The Gymnast

Last night I kept myself entertained by watching movement come from my belly. While I was allowing the vitamin E oil to absorb into my skin before pulling the sheets over and getting all gross, the light from the TV was acting as a spotlight on my stomach. I could feel Farrah moving around in there and then I noticed I could actually see her pushing up against my belly button area. She did what looked like a full-on somersault. My belly was rolling around and being poked at. It was awesome. Poor Mike. Every time I would try to show him, she'd get shy. Plus, I was so greasy I didn't want him to have to put his hand on that mess.

I've noticed when I listen to Def Lepard in my car she's all over the place. I'm going to assume that means she likes it and not that she is knocking on the womb walls to tell me to turn that crap off. I had done a little experiment, too. I know it has to be the base that she hears so I decided to throw in a couple more cds to rock out to. I put in Black Eyed Peas and a little bit of Brittany Spears (that's right) to see if the base from that music would make her bounce. Not so much. I also went out and bought a cd full of gentle classical pieces. I guess we'll see what her taste in music will be.