This Sunday I woke up sick. I made a nest on the couch to watch football and rest. I tried to drink some juice and eat some crackers. The food made a return appearance. Jack is a freaking angel, he came over with gatorade and soup. He heated me up a bowl of soup and came to snuggle on the couch with me.
I ate two bites of soup and not even 2 minutes later, I had to run to the bathroom to throw up the soup. When I came back to the couch, Jack asked, "are you pregnant?"
"No."
"Darn."
What??
Its hard to tell with him if he's being serious or just joking, but this led to us sort of having a conversation about babies. Jack will be 39 in a few months and he doesn't want to be an old dad. I'll be 30 next summer. And sure we both have jobs but we have A LOT more ducks to get in a row before I'm ready to pull the goalie.
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