It's kind of nice to be inconvenienced by a tardy child, if for no other reason than I feel justified saying NO to things people ask me to do. It is uncharacteristic of me to say no. I operate according to the principles of obligation and guilt and service and the golden rule, so I seriously just don't say no very often. But this weekend? Ask me to teach Relief Society for you (someone seriously did). NO. Ask me to take your daughter to work tomorrow. NO. Ask me if I'm going to get all dolled up and go to the RS broadcast at the Stake Center. NO. (But I will listen to it on the internet, because obligation does run thickly through my veins.)
Furthermore, if you are a stranger in the grocery store, ask me to turn around so you can see my butt so you can determine if I am right that I really am having a girl, even though you think I'm having a boy by the shape of my pregnant torso, and you can usually tell just by looking. HEAVENS NO, I won't do it. Ask me to elaborate to you in the bathroom at Sprouts about how far dilated I am. Um, NO. Discussion of my cervix is stictly off limits to strangers.
No, no, no! It feels pretty good.
And now, I give unto you an opportunity to say no. If anyone would like to visit me post-baby, and bring a little something special, let me just put it out there that I have really been craving brownies. Mmmm, brownies. Please? I'll be your best friend.