Rumble in the bundle

I don't feel the new Thomas every day, but when I do he let's loose like Muhammad Ali...floatin', flyin', stingin' and beein'. Last night was a marathon bout between the boy and my belly. Perhaps the elimination of our favorite model on "America's Next Top Model" ignited his fuse. Whatever reason, he unleashed a fury of fists and feet that would make the original Street Fighter Sonny Chiba back-down. And this parade of punches lasted for over an hour. To top it all off, you can't feel the movement from the outside yet. Poor Jesse is desperate to experience these baby spasms. I am desperate for him to believe me when my whimpering starts. I guess the kiddo's breached position is making outsider proof more difficult. Transversely, it make him closer to all my precious vital organs, aka punching bags. Does this seem like a fair set up to you? Hey Kit, is this karma at work?