I had a lot to drink before bed last night. I had tomato soup for dinner. I had about a liter of water. I drank more than half a pitcher of orange juice. And even then I was still thirsty, so I kept on drinking.
I thought for sure that by the time Andrew got home I would have to go to the bathroom. But I didn't. As we were getting ready for bed, I kept jumping up and down to see if I could feel the fluids splashing around in my stomach, the tell-tale sign that you drank too much. I couldn't. It didn't slosh, splash, or gurgle. I didn't really understand why this was because really I had drunk a whole lot of fluids.
I started walking into the bedroom as I was contemplating this, jostling around a bit, trying to see if I could make my stomach slosh. Andrew suddenly darted past me and did a flying front flip/somersault thing onto the bed.
I watched him do this. "Oh, dear," I thought calmly, "He's going to slam his head into the dresser. Hmmmmmm...I wonder if I jump up really high if my stomach will slosh. Nope."
It was a near-miss. He came to rest in a seated position with his nose mere inches from connecting with the dresser.
"Whoa!" Andrew said. I could tell his acrobatics were a rush for him, "I was just thinking while I was upside down, 'This is a bad idea!'"
"Not the smartest thing you've ever done," I agreed while jiggling a little bit.
"It was fun!" he said, "What are you doing?"
"Trying to see if I can make my stomach slosh....I drank so much tonight."
It didn't slosh though. I lay down. My stomach sloshed. We laughed.
It was a crazy night up to that point, but uneventful thereafter. Rachel didn't wake up until 4 and I didn't have to get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, oddly enough. I wonder what happened to all those fluids.
Poor little Rachel. This is what she has to grow up with.