Oh Danny boy, oh boy oh boy... oh Danny.

I don't really get into St. Patrick's Day, and how could I? There's no chocolate involved. I don't have very much green in my wardrobe, and none of it fits my rapidly expanding girth anyway. I can't tell the difference between Dropkick Murphys and Flogging Molly. I've never drunk green beer, and I never will. But THIS is pretty much the funniest thing I've EVER seen.

In other news, Betsy lost her other bottom front tooth last night. It didn't really seem like it was loose enough, but apparently it was. I'm glad that the tooth came out because it's been bothering her lately - I actually had to put Orajel in her mouth the night before (thank goodness I have, like, three half-used tubes of the stuff).

I felt one of Amy's toes last night - how weird is that? She gets really active when I lay down to go to bed, and I like to amuse myself by playing Guess The Body Part. She was kicking, and I got ahold of something tiny and round - I've never felt anything like that before. I can only assume it's one of her piggies. I'm guessing it's the one that went to market, but until modern medical science figures out a way to install a Plexiglass viewing window in my womb, all I can do is poke around a whole bunch. I've also discovered that Amy doesn't really like me using my belly as a table. Whenever I rest a book or a plate or something on top of my girth, she tries her hardest to kick it off. Gee, baby, I'm sorry if I've inconvenienced you.