A Bun Dance
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A Bun Dance
By Lynda Schab
Emily fluffed a pillow against the arm of the couch and settled back for an evening of entertainment. Who needed the movies or a night out on the town? Even front row tickets to her favorite Christian rock band couldn’t hold a candle to this. She turned to her husband, Carl, currently immersed in his evening entertainment—Monday night football. Bleh.
“Your bun’s dancing again.” That should get his attention.
“Your bun – in the oven. It’s dancing. Wanna feel?”
Carl rolled his eyes and turned back to the T.V. “I’m as excited as you are, hon, but please don’t refer to our baby as a carbohydrate. Dr. Phil would not approve.”
Emily pouted playfully. “You have to ruin all the fun. You used to like it when I mentioned your buns.” She tossed a blue throw pillow at him, hitting him square in the head. “Take that!”
Emily turned her attention to her swollen belly. The baby sure was active – much more active than their first baby, Tyler, had been. Lately, she felt like her insides were being kicked out and often wondered if her spleen might suddenly come crashing onto the floor. Although only five months along, she felt enormous. Not that she was complaining. She and Carl started trying for another baby when Tyler was two. Eight years later, God finally fulfilled their desire for another child. Enormous was a tiny price to pay for a baby.
Emily reached for the remote control (amazingly abandoned by Carl) and placed it on her stomach, over her protruding belly button. She giggled as it wobbled back and forth. She was vaguely aware of Carl shooting a strange look over his shoulder but she was used to that; it didn’t take much to amuse her.
The ultrasound was scheduled for the next day and Emily couldn’t wait. Finally, she would know how to decorate the nursery. Would they go with the bright blue dinosaur theme or the purple and yellow daisies? Carl was certain it was another boy. Emily had a sneaking suspicion it was a girl this time. Regardless of the gender, they would be happy with a healthy baby.
“So do you want to talk names again?” Emily asked.
Carl responded by yelling at the television. “That was a horrible call! Did you see that?”
Emily tossed another throw pillow at Carl. “Do you mind? He or she can hear you, you know. Our baby is probably cowering in the corner right now. Please…lower your voice.”
“I’m teaching him the proper way to watch a football game.”
“Good one.” It was Emily’s turn to roll her eyes. “So…the names. What do you think?”
“What about Peyton Manning? Peyton’s perfect for a girl or boy, don’t you think?” Carl tossed a pillow back at Emily and she caught it mid-air.
“Ha, ha. That’s gonna happen. Not. I was thinking …Bunny for a girl. And Ruebun for a boy. I know how much you like those “buns.”
“Uh…I don’t think so. And besides, it’s Rueben, not bun.”
“Whatever. Ruebun sounds better to me.”
Carl turned his attention back to the television. “Isn’t it past your bedtime or something?”
“Alright, I’ll leave you alone with your football. Anyway, I have to rest up for the ultrasound. I hope your bun shows off her dancing skills for the technician tomorrow. Maybe she – or he – will do the bunny hop.” Emily’s joke was met with another pillow to the face
“Or an end zone dance,” Carl said wryly.
“Night, honey-bunny. See you in the morning.”
The gel on Emily’s belly was cold and she had to pee. The ultrasound technician rolled the ball over her stomach. Emily tore her eyes away from the monitor and stole a look at Carl. She smiled warmly as she saw that his eyes were glued to the monitor as well. But she was certain her eyes weren’t quite as big or as round as his were at the moment.
“There it is.” The technician’s voice snapped her back to attention. Emily’s breath caught as all three observed in awed silence. “Do you want to know the sex?” the tech asked.
Emily’s response was quick and definite. “Of course we do! I’m sick of buying only yellow and green. I’m ready for some hot pink or royal blue.”
Techie smiled and continued her exploration. “Sure is active.”
“He’s dancing - the Bunny Hop.” Emily slid her eyes to her husband.
He shook his head and grinned. “Or practicing for the NFL.”
Emily narrowed her eyes at Carl and stuck out her tongue before turning back to the Tech Master. “So what color should we paint the nursery?”
“Hang on one second…” techie slowly moved the ball and pressed slightly on Emily’s stomach, causing her to wince as it pressed against her bladder. “Hmmm. I don’t see that very often.”
“What is it?” Emily asked, eyebrows coming together in a V. “What don’t you see? Is something wrong?”
“See this?” the Tech pointed to the screen. Emily squinted, trying to grasp what she was referring to. A leg. It was a leg. And Emily was delighted to see that the leg was moving. Another indication of dancing tendencies.
“And this?” Techie moved the ball to the right just a hare and pushed down a little harder.
“And this?” Again, she pressed down to the right.
“Huh?” Emily and Carl said in unison. Three legs—Yikes! That was not normal.
“Looks like you have more than one little Fred Astaire in there,” said the tech. I can hardly believe that we didn’t suspect sooner. But baby number two was hiding pretty tight behind her brother.”
Emily looked at Carl, whose face reflected the emotion she felt – total shock.
“Two buns? Well, I guess that explains why I feel so huge. Hey – they must have been doing the Waltz. You definitely need a partner for the Waltz.”
“I think your oddball humor is rubbing off on me,” Carl grinned. “The first thing that came to my mind was, ‘now that’s what I call a bun dance!’” Carl leaned down and kissed her forehead. “We’re doubly blessed.”
“Abundantly blessed,” Emily agreed. “Hey. Can I pee now? My buns are really pressing on my bladder.”
This warranted a strange look from the techie. Emily struggled off the table and grooved all the way to the bathroom. Her dancing skills needed work if she wanted to keep up with her buns.
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