Mom, I'm The Kicker

Birk was getting in the shower.  Her 7 year old body jumping up and down and squiggling out of her clothes.  

She looked at me with a big smile and joyfully said with a jump to punctuate her point, "Mom, I was the kicker!"

We had been talking about many things that evening.  I tried to figure out what she meant.  I said, "In soccer?"

"No, mom, in your tummy.  Remember?  I was the kicker, Ruth was the hiccup-er and John was the roller.  Remember mommy?"

Yes, now I am remembering...and smiling right along with her.