A few thoughts from my clouded brain:

--I have come to the conclusion that pregnancy is too long. I've heard the old adage that it takes all nine months to prepare for having a child, but as a chronic procrastinator, I'm likely to put off until the last few weeks all those nesting things pregnant women are supposed to do anyway. So I think five months would be sufficient. I mean, I can't believe how long I've been pregnant, and that I still have eight weeks to go.

--Things about the baby that kind of freak Charlotte out: 1. That he's naked in there. 2. That he goes potty in my belly.

I have assured her that we will promptly cloth her brother after birth, but she still seems unnaturally obsessed with the fact that I am a glorified waste containment unit for this child. She did seem slightly relieved to find out that it's only number one, not number two, that's currently happening.

--I can't sleep well. Classic late-pregnancy symptom, I know, but still unpleasant. I have trouble falling asleep, due to a fabulous cocktail of heartburn, leg cramps, and general inability to turn off my brain. And what sleep I do get is light, surface sleep plagued by annoyingly vivid dreams about the things I'm reading for school. Last night, I dreamed I was conversing with the characters in the Faulkner novel I'm reading, in Faulknerese (those of you who've read old Billy F. know what I mean...lots of stream-of-consciousness ramblings using words like effluvium and immobile and repugnant). I kept waking up every couple of hours, at which point I'd once again battle heartburn and leg cramps, only to fall back asleep and back into the same dream. There are dreams you hope to continue after interruption. This wasn't one of them.

--Some Charlotte quotes:

"I'm bigger than many buildings."

"Octopusses have terrible roars."

"Nice haircut, mama. I want some gum."