Olympic Kicker

10:35 pm, Monday, 8/11/08... men's gymnastics from Beijing on tv. Michael Phelps won his 3rd gold just a few minutes ago.

Pam's watching tv and says suddenly, "He's kicking and I can see it." (She noticed it out of the corner of her eye.)

"Shut. Up," I say. We knew this was going to happen at some point, in fact we'd just been told to expect it, but neither of us were really thinking it would be happening now.

"No, check it out."

So I do. I watch her belly rise and fall with breaths a couple of times. I try to pick one spot to concentrate on, and for some reason I keep going to the middle, under her belly button, even though I know he's not laying up and down but sideways. Pam points to the lower left side of her belly and says, "He's kicking over here." And then I see one of the trippiest things I think I'll ever see--a vibration that isn't in time with a breath. She says, "There. Did you see that?"

"Yes!" And I feel my eyes bulge out of my head.

I only see it the one time, but it's enough. Seriously. This is way crazy. Wicked crazy. In. Sane.

Also, we are at ear of corn

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