Something Sweet

Hello Baby,

I was sitting through a boring talk at the end of the day at the conference when you decided it was time that we eat. You informed me of your wishes with insistent rigorous punches and kicks to my various internal organs. So we cut out early and headed out for some salad, pizza and laughs with Mr. Dave and Ms. Fonda, old friends from your momma's grad school days. You are going to have to learn baby, that everyone here is Ms. This and Mr. That. It is just polite, down here in the South.

I don't know what kind of growth spurt you are on, but suddenly while walking alone on the way back to the B and B after dinner, I needed something sweet and I needed it NOW.

Two blocks later, I came across an Argentinian cafe and went in, waltzed right up to the back counter, and asked for something sweet and yummy for desert. I think the owner recognized my demand for what it was- pregnancy craving- because not two minutes later a clearly oversized piece of Tres Leche cake showed up at my table.

I ate it all, and I don't even like cake.

It hit my singing sweet tooth. Or maybe that was your sweet tooth, but I don't think you have teeth yet.

The owner came out after to ask me about you, and to tell me about his four children and four grand children. Judging form his stories and the giant size of that piece of cake, he knows all about pregnant ladies.

Your Momma.