While she tried to push it out I tried desperately to hold it in. Her "it" would be in reference to the newest member of the human race. My "it" would be in reference to the ball of gas tormenting my stomach. I just wasn't ready to cross the fart threshold with my mother-in-law yet. Looking back, a burrito may have been a bad choice.
Our little alien was born at 8:30 am on St. Patricks Day. Her name is Riley Nicole Allen. We picked the potential names months ago and laughed when her name seemed to go with her date of birth. Were she a boy her name would have been Jack Ethan Allen, again another name that would've worked for the date of birth that was competely unintentional. I figure we'll have to have a big party for her and adults each year and it will be fun for her to have a parade on her birthday.
She weighed in 5 pounds, 6 ounces at birth and came with a book of cooking suggestions from Jonathan Swift. She's already grounded. We're not letting her go out with any of her friends and we made her quit her paper route. But she sure is nice. She rarely cries and has a really nice attitude for a baby. And she's freaking adorable.
Looking at her weird dad:
Getting her first diaper:
In route. From womb to heat lamp bed:
Just minutes old:
Riley and Grandpa GT40 (possibly the first maggot grandpa?):
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