Dearest Benjamin,

I was inpired by The Girl’s post to have a little misdirection discussion with you. After last week’s visit with the midwife where you were in perfect head down position, where she said you were more likely to stay put than to turn, where she grabbed your head and butt and made you wiggle (sorry about that kid, it hurt me, too), I’m sure you heard your father and I discussing how smart you were. How much smarter you were than we were when we were babies since we were both so misdirected our mothers had to be cut open. We were astounded by your intelligence. We had ourselves an incredibly smart baby. I should’ve known better.

Don’t get me wrong, love, we know you’re smart. We don’t doubt it for one second. You’re just an incredibly intelligent smart-ass. The night after the appointment I began feeling very strange rolling and pushing from you that I hadn’t before. My belly stuck out in weird ways, ways even your father was amazed by. I just thought you were enjoying the steaks he made us. Turns out, you’re so smart you turned the right way just for the midwife and then decided to flip back the other way when we got home. Bad seed.

So, now you’re kicking me in the bladder again and shoving your head into my stomach whenever I eat too much. I have a strange feeling you’ll probably be turning before my next appointment just so I can look like a crazy person for telling the midwife you were ever otherwise. All I ask is that when it’s time for you to be born, you get yourself the right way. The whole rebellious thing is great, but if it requires your momma to be cut open to get you out, you will be grounded until you’re well into your 40’s and then I will marry you off to a large Russian woman who plans to use you as a work mule.

Remember, I warned you.

Love,
Your (not joking) Momma