To the Moon, Baby!

So Rachel bought me cute baby "Rocket Rattle."

Um not to sound too much like a baby, but this so called rattle, is not a rattle at all! It doesn't rattle. It squeaks, like a doggie chew toy.

I am no doggie.

One of these days, Rachel. Bang, zip, right to the moon! Just kidding I would never domestically abuse my wife allll the way to the moon. To Chicago maybe, but not past the stratosphere. Call me a softy, but that is taking wifely discipline just simply too far.

Seriously though, she got those bruises from giving blood, I promise. (Oh she gave blood all right and she is gonna give more).

I am not mad. I like the toy. Which is why I originally sent the following "joke" to Rachel via email conversation after I was looking for cute baby gift ideas:

Me: Can we buy this?

http://shop.nordstrom.com/S/3129819?origin=category&resultback=5534

Rachel: Sure! For our future babies or for Nitsy's?

Me: Babies? I meant for me.

Ha! I am just so darn funny.

Now I am sure she got my kiddery, but lo and behold, I got the little thing in the mail yesterday (because I hadn't ordered anything, I was worried it was a very light bomb or perhaps some white toxin [no really I was worried]). Thanks Rachel! (for the happy surprise not the unwelcome anxiety).

And since we don't have two for the Nitsy spawn (twiners), it would be unfair to give them only one rocket. They'd fight (baby fights are the worst). So I'll have to hold onto the rocket until our own children begin existing (one at a time).