Scene: Interior, couple sitting on couch drinking coffee in the morning.
Wife: How did you sleep?
Husband: Pretty good, you?
Wife: Good, Little Girlfriend had to wake up early and play, though.
Husband (Leaning over and speaking to wife’s stomach): Your daddy doesn’t like to wake up in the morning. We can work on that once you’re born, ok?
This kid is moving around like crazy. Last night, I noticed S’s shirt jumping. I put my hand on her stomach and felt something move from one side of my hand to the other, a foot or a hand, with some serious determination. I could push gently in that area and feel body parts shifting. A couple weeks ago, the movement was cool: it was little jumps and bumps. Now, it’s kind of like walking in murky water: you feel movement that is intelligent rather than random. You know there’s something down there moving around, but you can’t see when or where the next movement is going to be. Last night was the first time I got freaked out a little by it. S. has felt her flip several times a day. She’s freaked out thinking, “I have 15 more weeks of this, with a bigger kid each day and less room? How am I going to breathe?”
I’ve always been quite proud of the fact for the most part I’ve avoided the reality TV craze. I’ve never watched an episode of Survivor. I didn’t watch the Apprentice. And until this year, I hadn’t watched American Idol beyond the initial episodes when all the random schmoes were on. This year, for whatever reason, like the rest of America, we’ve fallen in love with the competition! (How’s that for a Ryan Seacrest line?) Anyway, last night was a clear example of why I’ve not watched the show in the past. The three women who were by far the best singers; I mean it’s not even close; were the three lowest vote getters. I had no doubts they would be the final three competitors, and all were worthy of getting record contracts. Yet the idiots who called in deemed them least worthy to continue. Seriously, that red headed kid should have been booted a month ago, what’s wrong with this country? He’s a nice kid, and once he grows up, gets his heart broken a couple times, and understands the meaning of the songs he’s singing, he might be a fine lounge singer somewhere. But for now, he’s thoroughly awful each week. We can’t even look at the TV when he’s singing. The 16 year old girl who just screams (Diana?) wouldn’t win a bad high school talent contest, yet she’s still in it. If La Toya London had somehow got the boot last night, I would suggest everyone take their asses to church today because the end is near.
Then again, if I’m eating at Jack’s Stack and watching American Idol, that alone might be enough evidence that the end is near.
Yes, La Toya is my pick. Ever since I heard her sing Rufus and Chaka Khan’s “Ain’t Nobody” – one of the great R&B songs ever – and sing it well, I’ve been in love with her.