I’m sorry, that was rude. You’re new here (or, at least, you will be), so maybe you don’t know the rules yet.
When someone invites you over (with an expected end date), feeds you, houses you, and doesn’t complain (much) when you kick them in the ribs or squeeze their bladder, it’s only polite to leave at the appropriate time.
Maybe you’re nervous about the next steps, or maybe you’re just incredibly comfortable, which is all understandable. And that’s why most hosts, myself included, will be flexible with a day or two.
A full week is pushing it, my friend.
I am tired. I am tired of lugging around 30+ extra pounds, and running out of breath going up and down the stairs.
At this point, I would gladly trade waking up in the middle of the night to feed you, for the current situation of waking up multiple times to pee.
I’d like to be able to stand up from the couch, without needing a nudge from your father.
And I’d love to be able to walk anywhere without waddling.
But mostly, Baby, I just want to meet you. So does Husband; so does Manny, though, in fairness, he might think you’re a toy at first.
You also have two grandparents already here to meet you, and one on her way shortly. And you do not want to keep any of them waiting.
I know it’s been a long, cold, snowy winter. And maybe you’re just making sure that spring is real before you make your debut. Maybe you’re waiting until the Phillies have a winning record (don’t – we don’t have that long), or until Manny’s birthday, so you can always share a party. (I wouldn’t recommend it, though – he’ll always go after your cake.)
But I want you to know we’re ready for you. As ready as we’ll ever be.
And there are countless friends and family members (pets included) who are also anxious to meet you and sniff you and hold you and love you.
So don’t think of this as an eviction notice, but as a gentle nudge toward the outside world.
I promise it’s not so bad out here.
I already love you,