Kicks, much?

So apparently I'm carrying a horse. He certainly kicks like one. This dude... I mean. It's ridiculous. I can't imagine how active he'll be once he's actually got room to maneuver like the wiggle worm he seems to be.

He already has such a little personality. A strong one, just like his mom and dad. When I do something he doesn't like, I get a kick. Like in the mornings when I do my exercise class. We do a hamstring stretch that involves me leaning forward. Nope, he says. And he kicks. And kicks me to the point that sometimes I gasp. Dude. Lighten up. My poor students. They know when I suddenly sit upright that I've been assaulted from the inside.

Houston: we have movement!!

Last night, after polishing off three Halloween size Kit Kats, I felt little dude move! I'm so very excited that I finally felt him. At this point, I'm kind of still assuming it was him. My stomach wasn't bothering me, I wasn't gassy, and I wasn't moving around. So that leads me to believe it was my baby guy.