You are growing so much, I can tell even without the ultrasounds. It slowly becomes more difficult to get up off the couch (!!) and to lay on my back becomes. VERY. uncomfortable. And you kick like a linebacker.
But I don't want to complain!
I've been watching your video rather alot, and thinking about what you'll look like. To my utter dismay, it appears you have my pug (pig) nose. But it looks like you have your papa's jaw, and if we're lucky you'll have his white-blond curly hair. (If you can't tell, I'm thinking a lot lately about what you'll look like, as you practice your ninja kicks at 5 am in my bellee).
And my job. You're lucky your mum likes her job so much. I don't talk about my job here as a general rule, but just to tell you all (while I have a fangirl moment): I really, really love my job. I like the people, I like what I do, I like the money... :-) ... and they've been so good about you and letting me work from home ... they just rock.
And I must be getting some sort of nesting feeling, because the last days I've been lusting after this, which has admittedly been my dream for a long while before but it's really solidifying now. My own little Swedish farm.
With goats. I had it in Oklahoma, and your papa had it with his grandparents holiday house, but I'm worried that you won't: Some place in your life where everything is golden, and green, and turquoise blue, with animals and water and plants and magic at every turn.
I want you to have some place like that, when you think back on your childhood. (Which means I better get to selling some books, because papa informs me this is the only way to achieve this particular dream).
You're doing good, I'm doing good. Let's continue at this level.