Andrew is very eloquent on paper. He uses big words, expresses his thoughts clearly and usually gets good grades.
...Unless he's trying to woo a girl. He just gets all awkward and says things like, "You're so compact!"; "Do you have a scripture marking system?"; or, my favorite, "You're a brave little toaster."
The latter expression comes out every now and then when he thinks I'm being very, very brave, indeed.
Last night we were talking about how fast our due date is approaching while feeling the baby squirm around inside of me. It really is coming up really fast...and I'm a little worried about how little Andrew knows about the whole process. We really need to get into a birthing class of some sorts.
"How long do you have to push, anyway?" he asked, "Like twenty minutes or something?"
"Probably longer," I answered.
"Really?" he gasped, genuinely shocked.
"Really." I said, affirming all of his worst nightmares. He does not do well with blood/pain.
In fact I just found out that he has a strange psychological thing that happens when he dwells on pain for too long. His feet start to hurt. It is so strange for me, but apparently normal (as far as normal goes) since it happens to his dad, too.
He had never complained about it before, until one day his mom and I were talking about getting blood drawn and things like that. All of a sudden, Andrew starts mumbling, "Ow, ow, ow..."
"What?" I asked.
"My feet hurt," he said.
"Your feet hurt?" I asked, credulously gazing at his feet which were perfectly untouched and looked pain-free to the naked eye.
He said that it hadn't happened for a few years and he isn't sure why it is happening now. I mean, he's a lot braver than his dad when it comes to such things. He can watch medical shows. He can clip his own toe nails. He can watch the baby move. His dad can't do any of those things without experiencing some foot pain. In fact, we can hardly talk about baby things at all without his dad losing it.
I personally think Andrew's feet are hurting because he is thinking about the impending labor and delivery, which is only 66 days away.
Well, last night I could tell Andrew was having a hard time. I'm sure his feet were already aching, although I didn't ask him.
"How long will you have to push?" he asked, a little timidly.
"Oh, I don't know. A few hours at least," I said.
"Like how long?" he asked.
"I don't know. The average time to be in labor with your first baby is 12 hours or something like that." I said.
"Twelve hours?" he asked.
"Yes. Sometimes more somtimes less." I said.
"Do you have to push all that time?"
"Well, do the other parts of labor hurt?"
"I don't know, but I've heard that it hurts."
"And you have to push for a few hours?" he asked.
"Yes, I probably will." I said, "Sometimes it happens faster, but usually it takes a few hours."
"So it's not like two pushes and you're done?" he asked.
"No," I said, "Remember when I told you that I probably wouldn't feel like doing much of anything for a while after the baby was born...so you'd have to take on more housework and stuff while I recuperate?"
"Yes," he said.
"That's why," I said, "Because I will be very, very tired and very, very sore after the baby is born..."
"Oh," he said and then got very quiet before adding, "You're a brave little toaster."
Thanks, honey! I think it will be kind of entertaining to watch him while I'm in labor. In fact, I'm almost looking forward to it. Almost.