Kicky McGee

So for a while, Stef was telling me she could feel the Monster kick around in her belly. Every once in a while she'd grab my hand and excitedly put it on her belly, amazed that I could not feel him at all. He apparently moves more (or, at least) Stef can feel him move around more) when (i) Stef is being less active, and/or (ii) post Breyer's chocolate ice cream binge (a now daily occurrence for Stef), so quite often a fair part of the night would be her going "oh!" and grabbing my hand, me shaking my head, and her looking disappointed and bewildered.

And then, a few days ago, the Monster grew up enough so that I could feel him kick. And kick. And kick. And kick. And kick. Basically what I'm saying is: the Monster's an active little guy.

It's a surreal experience that is hard to put into words, feeling your first child move around inside your wife like some kind of parasitic alien creature. I can only imagine it freaks Stef out slightly more than me, if only because she feels it all the time. It also makes me proud for some reason, and very excited. I mean, feeling the Monster kick pretty much makes him that much more of a reality.