Dear baby, it's your week 32 update.

Hot damn!  Time flies (when you don't know you're knocked up for a lot of it).  In any event, you're the size of a random fruit or vegetable this week.  Shocking!  Allegedly, you weigh about 3.5 pounds.  At the rate I'm/we're growing, I'd believe it.  I'm about to enter the stage of gaining a poundish a weekish (so far, mostly in my second chin) and I'm terrified, so hang on for your growth spurt, little dude.  You're about to run out of room to continue the acrobatics you're so fond of.  ALL THE TIME.  Except for sometimes, then I freak out completely, convinced something is wrong, but then you flip around and all is well.  Right so, you're still nameless and might remain this way until you're old enough to choose your own, at the rate we're moving on this decision.  It will be weird when you're President Batman Oberst, but the country'll get used to it.  In the meantime, I think I've found what I want to take you home in.  Not that it will fit, or that you'll wear it for more than 30 seconds without barfing or pooing all over it, but a mama can dream, right?

via ittikid

Going to birthing class, even though I hate it, just for you tonight, dude.  See you soon!