Uncouth

Lyla will look at these photos in five years and be like, "Wow, Grandma's phone is ancient."

My son-fetus isn't kicking yet, but he's certainly swimming around a lot, occasionally bulging out his mother's belly in alien ways. "Is that his elbow?" I ask, my hand on a bulge before it disappears. "His head? His butt?" Julie knows where this is headed. "Is it his knee? Hey, you don't suppose--"

"Dan, I don't understand why you think you're funny."

"What? You don't even know what I'm going to say."

"You are going to suggest, as you always do, that our son's penis was pushing out my stomach."

"That's uncouth. I would never say that."

"Whatever. And don't put it on your blog either."