Putting Up With The Heffalump

"Matt! Matt! I'm starving! Do we have any potatoes?!"

It's 9:52 pm. We're in bed. Matt rolls over and gives me a blank look.

"Umm...I dunno. Do we have any Brazilian artichokes?"

"That's not funny!" but I am laughing.

"By the way," he says, "were you planning on taking all the pillows again tonight?"

"Well, I need two for my legs, one for my head, one to hold...."

"Which means that by the morning I'll have what? A thread?"

I laugh again, then wince. "Ouch! Stop making me laugh, it hurts my pubic bone."

"Are you wearing your maternity belt?"

"No, because I don't wear it to bed. Did I tell you I'm starving? I could eat a double-double from In-N-Out right now."

He waits. "Would you be happy with Carl's Jr. instead?"

"No, all I really wanted was a baked potato."

Now he laughs a laugh which says I love you and everything but even I have my limits. However, he trots downstairs to make me a snack.

"This is for the babies," he reminds me. Just in case I thought he was doing it only for me and my big, old' pregnant heffalump body.

I follow him because I like to think my chattiness keeps him amused.

Given that I'll be stealing all the pillows again tonight, keeping him amused is the least I can do.