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According to today's doctor's visit, everything looks good. The baby is stubbornly breech, resting as high in my uterus as possible without aid of sophisticated climbing gear. What can I say? I provide good accomodations: warm environment, plenty of food, a variety of activities designed to lull the baby to sleep. I am a gracious landlord, providing safe shelter and forgiving 3:00 a.m. karate kicks to the bladder. But, the tiny tenant and I both know that it can't -- and won't -- last. Therefore, I am afraid that the baby will be getting his eviction notice in four weeks and four days. I've even set up accomodations outside the womb to help him feel at home.

My bags are packed. I am ready to go. Seriously. I have already packed my bag for the hospital, though I haven't picked out clothes for the baby to wear at the hospital or to come home in. But by the end of the week, that will be done as well.

As Halloween approaches, I have become even more conscious of the scary movies and shows that I don't want Jude to see. Still, last week, he awoke one morning and said "Mom, I had a bad dream last night." My heart fell. What was scaring him in his sleep? After a bit of probing, he said "My boogers kept coming out and I couldn't stop them." Sounds like a nightmare to me. He has a cold right now, so it is a perfectly reasonably bad dream. Also, the cutest description of a bad dream ever.

Our evening ritual with Jude has been altered slightly. One night, Jude said "Get out of my room" after evening hugs and kisses. I figured he was just tired and let it go, though I did tell him it wasn't nice to say that and it hurt Mommy and Daddy's feelings. The following night, his eyes closed as we tucked him in and, as we turned to the door, I heard his little voice say "Get out of my room, please." So, we're making progress.

So, think of me however briefly four weeks and four days from now. Until then, here's hoping that your boogers stay put.