For starters, you can talk openly about that flatulence problem. Which is a really, really big one. Think: disgusting, dry-heave-inducing, out-of-control, rip-roaring, nasty-ass, farts. The sweet aroma of new life filtered through your anus. And even if, like me, you’ve always been a do-your-stinking-in-the-privacy-of-your-own-bathroom kind of girl, you probably haven’t accounted for this. Sometimes you won’t make it! Sometimes, you’ll toot in the living room.
And, oh yeah, there’s this: the secret I’m keeping from the bulk of familiar humanity until we can’t keep it a secret no mo’! This here? This is “Iggy.”
Once upon a time, (s)he was cryopreserved like the remains of Walt Disney. Now (s)he’s got a heartbeat, lives in my uterus and makes me fart a lot.
I love this kid.