Story Time
On Saturday night, I told our unborn child (McFiggy) a story for the first time.
Apparently the baby responds to my voice, becoming quite active and raising a ruckus. I hope this is a good thing.
Most times, there will be visible evidence of McFiggy’s activity. Usually McFiggy will deliver a good shot, sufficient to make Mrs. J’s belly show a bump for a second. Never more than one at a time, and always with a significant amount of time in between them
I rested my head on Mrs. J’s belly and told the story of the Three Little Pigs.
The story seemed well received.
No Freakin’ Way…
Sunday night we were settling in. Mrs. J asked me if I was going to tell McFiggy a story that night.
I wanted Mrs. J to get some shut eye, so I said I would have storytime the next night.
Then there was a bump from the belly, indicating that there was an interested party. I looked at Mrs. J and asked her if we could let the baby decide.
She agreed.
I put my cheek on the belly and said…
Hey you. It’s your Dad. If you want me to tell you a story, give me two bumps, please.
A few seconds…
Then…
BUMP! BUMP!
Then nothing.
How could anyone not think that is awesome?
So last night was all about Jack and the Beanstalk.
Test?
I was telling Dave about this. He thought it was cool and suggested using this phrase the next time…
Okay, it’s your Dad. If you want me to tell a story, do the drum beat from We’re Not Gonna Take It…
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Barking Space 