When I was super-pregnant with Baba (like 8 and a half months about to pop any minutes pregnant), I decided that I could no longer live with the way our living room furniture was arranged. My loving husband watched from his computer as his wife, the newest super hero "Pregnant Girl" moved couches, end tables, entertainment centers, and a super heavy steamer trunk that came from the old country around the living room. His only comment was about the temperature of the house when I became warm and turned off the heat so I could open the front door for some air. I fail to see what his problem was, just because it was January in Minnesota.
Today "Pregnant Girl" and all her hormonal glory and strength made her return. I could no longer live with the current arrangement of furniture in the living room. The boy kept asking why I needed to rearrange the living room (he was watching Toy Story and got a ride on the couch and the recliner while I was moving them). Rather than explain hormones and the nesting instinct to him, I just told him I was tired of the way the furniture was arranged.
This time, Zippy helped. I'm not sure if he didn't want his pregnant wife rearranging alone or if he was afraid I would get overheated and freeze Baba to the couch. Either way, I had help.