last night as we got in bed, we started talking about blub. contrary to popular belief, we don’t talk about the baby much hehe. in fact, we STILL haven’t decided on a name for blub. I mean, a proper one lah. the baby cant go around introducing himself as BLUB for the rest of his life izenit. its kinda annoying now –the husband’s fickle-mindedness. cos it’s the last trimester and who knows kan, blub might choose to make an early appearance. ok so back to our bedtime conversation. the husband was looking a bit disturbed so here’s an excerpt of our conversation (with a little ad-lib):
me: whats wrong big daddy?
he: im just thinking about the shit. (the husband has a problem with shit, including his own).
me: eh?
he: it took me a while to deal with my own shit.
me: don’t worry. other men have gone through the same thing. they say they got around the disgust when it came to their own kids.
he: i can do EVERYTHING else but can you deal with the shit?
me: but what if i’m sick? you not kesian me kah??
he: i will call my mom.
me: harummphhfff.
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