Last week, my wife passed her 25th week of pregnancy. Boo-yeah.
I received an email from BabyCenter.com, telling me the baby was the size of a rutabaga.
Listen here, that does not look like my son. At least I hope not.
What did you call my son? I don’t even know what a rutabaga is.
I just googled it, and apparently they were calling my son a “yellow turnip.” A rutabaga is a cross between a cabbage and a turnip.
So now you’re calling my wife and I cabbage and turnips, who are giving birth to a rutabaga? How dare you.
The average length of a baby at this stage is 13 ½ inches. Lucy went to the doctor last week, and was told that Tommy Boy looks completely healthy, and is much taller than average. We have an athlete on our hands, people!
BabyCenter also told me that my son is beginning to exchange some of his long, lean look for baby fat. Are you calling my baby fat? You don’t know how the Riles roll. In college I used to eat waffles every night around midnight, and I lost weight.
Here’s a quote from Annie at the birth club, and how she is feeling at 25 weeks:
“The people I work with start touching my stomach. People need to understand that we don’t like to be touched without asking. It’s not rude – it’s my body.”
Amen, Amy. Amen.