I was really hoping we wouldn't have any kind of parenting confrontation until you started crawling around and I had to admonish you not to touch dangerous things, and I hope this isn't a sign of what's to come, but at zero days old you are already undermining my authority. Although, to be fair, this is probably my fault for not sticking to a consistent deadline.
Here's the deal though. On top of gaining too much weight (I just repacked your hospital bag with a bigger coming home outfit) and giving me all sorts of odd hormonal problems, you have spent the last two days kicking and punching me nonstop. This is both unexpected and unpleasant. It's unexpected because everyone including supposed medical professionals claimed that you would move around less towards the end of the pregnancy because you would run out of room. Looking back, this claim made no logical sense, because if Octomom and Kate Gosselin can stretch to fit small busloads of children in their belly, clearly I could stretch enough to let one determined baby dance the day and night away.
Anyway, this post is not about my parenting and logic failures, it is about the line being drawn. You have less than 48 hours before we evict you via c-section on Wednesday. You have been put On Notice.