Most days I multi-task and spend much of my life looking down... tap, tap, tapping away, mind drifting off. If only my bottom could get the work out my thumbs do, I'd at least be able to check something off my resolutions list.
Though I fear for my skin and internal organs, my son is goddamn adorable. He's my first choice for "People I would let excavate my throat," and "If you had to pick someone to accidentally give you a spleenectomy, who would it be?"
Some might say I could have waited until we were wheeled out of the operating room, but I began the conversation early. "Listen, there will be male people in the nursery," I warned, the moment her beanie-clad head hit my bosom. "Do not worry."