Yesterday it was my turn to make dinner. Did I want to make dinner? Hell no.

Still, I was just about to haul myself out of my chair and waddle into the kitchen to see what relatively simple meal could be thrown together when Matt said, "I guess if you really don't want to cook, we could call the Brandts and see if they want to go out."

What a splendid idea!

So we met them at Second Street, and they came back over to the house for a bit afterward to see the nursery.

Emma was as fussy as I've ever seen her, I think - she'd started off the day with a bit of a fever, so they hadn't taken her to daycare, and she'd spent most of the day sleeping. As a result, by dinnertime she was refreshed and awake and ready to explore. But Mean Ol' Mom and Dad insisted that she stay in her chair at the table. How annoying!

So most of the meal was channelled into efforts to keep her distracted. Once we'd finished eating and could move around, she perked up considerably.

Diamond was a little bit wary of this small person we'd brought into his house, but Emma - though delighted to be able to point and identify a "kitty!" - stayed respectfully out of his way. Even when urged to "pat the kitty," she crept up on him hesitantly, and patted his tail exactly once before retreating. Of course, she didn't exactly have a cordial relationship with the Brandt family cat, Pumpkin, so I guess she's been conditioned to be cautious.

She was very funny in the computer room - fascinated by our table-full of gear. According to Matt: Braz pointed out the Palm cradles for her - "This is Matt's, and this is Liz's." Emma pointed to the first. "Matt!" Then to the second. "Cheese!" (L isn't her best letter. My name is Cheese.) Then she patted the AirPort base station. "Mine!"

Good pick, kid.

This morning, while I was rinsing shampoo out of my hair, I sneezed. Twice. Violently.

I wouldn't think it worth mentioning except that I could have sworn that afterward, it seemed like the baby had dropped in my belly, trying to escape my explosively deflating lungs.

Yes, I know, I can't actually sneeze the baby out. But I still I fretted about it for a bit. It's too early for the baby to drop. (Dropping is one of the early predictions of oncoming labor, and generally indicates the birth will take place within the next two weeks or so. I've still got three weeks to go before my anticipated last day of work.)

But she seems to have bounced back up, at least a bit. All the same, I'm glad I have an appointment with the doctor tomorrow.

--Liz