Alright, Taylor, get it all out now. This is your chance.
Kick me...kick me...as hard as you want.
Because this is the only time you'll be able to kick me without consequences. No time-outs. No talking to's. No stern looks. No spankings. Absolutely no consequences. Just acceptance.
Kick me...I beg you. When you kick me, my heart leaps. When you kick me, happiness fills me up. When you kick me, I am closer to you. So, please, please, kick me all you want. You can move around and squirm around and be crazy in my tummy. I'll even be happy if you kick me in the ribs.
Why, you might ask, am I okay with you 'beating up' on mommy? Because I absolutely love you! It's still going to be a few more months before I get to see you in person, so I want to cherish every touch I get from you, even if it's in the form of a kick.
The first time you kicked me was magical. It was January 5th. I was taking attendance of the first grade class I teach, when I felt a thump in my belly. I quickly put my hand to my tummy and felt another thump. It's like you were saying, "Hey, mommy, I'm right here!" I'm going to imagine you were telling me you loved me. Well, I love you too, sweetheart. Very much.
Daddy was jealous. He wanted to feel you too. You didn't disappoint. A few days later, you let Daddy feel you too. You moved and wiggled so much that Daddy could feel you when he put his hand on my tummy. That meant a lot to him. He loves you very much too. You're going to love him so much. He is going to be the best daddy in the whole world, I promise you that.
Thanks for kicking me, I mean that.