Arthur watched as you tossed and turned pitifully. Your pregnancy was not as pretty as other’s you’d seen. “Here, let me talk to em’.” Arthur said, climbing into the bed and scooting closer to you before leaning into your stomach. “You stop torturin’ my wife!” He demanded with a point of his finger.

He always knew how to make you smile. “You sit still, now.” Just as he said— a sharp kick! You winced, and even Arthur was able to see that one. He looked utterly flabbergasted at the audacity. “Well I’ll be damned.”