In case it has slipped your measly little attention spans over the last 32 weeks...Mommy is pregnant. No, this bump protruding from my abdomen is not a tumor, nor is it a direct result of your rapidly disappearing Halloween candy. (mostly)
When you drop things on the floor and "forget" to pick it up, I don't find that amusing. Nor do I find it amusing that you giggle when I bend over and can't get back up...trying to pick up your "forgotten" item.
The fact that it takes me longer to roll off the couch, than it does for you to run 1/2 a mile, is no excuse to misbehave. I know you've figured out that Mommy can yell a lot from her post on the couch, but not actually get up to do anything about it - but remember that I won't be pregnant forever. And I have a very good memory.
You telling Mommy that I am getting big...is no longer cute. I'm aware that I look like a beached whale (again, this is not a direct result of your rapidly disappearing Halloween candy), but I don't need you to point it out to me.
Lastly, you climbing into my bed in the middle of the night is no longer welcome. While I love cuddling up with you and holding you close, I do not enjoy the fact that you squirm like sea monkeys. Being kicked from the inside AND the outside, while I try to sleep is just not fun. That, and I worry about your safety...when I actually get up the momentum to roll over, I fear that I will smother you underneath my gigantic, tumor-looking, bump.