Proud to be an American

I had a lovely 4th of July with Nick and my parents! We had a bbq at my mom and dad's house and went to Windsor Lake to see the fuegoworks. The seats we had for the fireworks were fantastic - right across the lake from where they were setting them off. And the entire night was set to the background music of my wonderful, tone-deaf husband singing "Proud to be an American" over and over and over and over again.

In the midst of the firework-explosion-extravaganza, I suddenly felt little Eggy swimming around in there poking at my gut...What an amazing feeling! I was trying to explain what it felt like to Nick and doing a terrible job ("It's like fish sucking on my belly from the inside", "It's like tickling that doesn't tickle...or really feel like someone tickling you", "It's like bubbles moving around inside you, but not like farts, and not really like bubbles either".) Anyway, I was so excited to feel our little spawn kicking around in there. I happen to think it was flipping out due to the sonic booms occuring outside his/her happy womb home, which surely scared it into thinking that some type of uterine apocolypse was upon us all. Nick, on the other hand, thought it was a sure sign that we're growing a breathtakingly patriotic little Smoz, and the movement I felt was simply the smart, crisp salute of our 17-week-old fetus demonstrating his/her love for the great US of A. Or all of us are wrong and the potato salad at dinner just gave me gas. Whatever.