Bonjour, mes petits chou. For those of you silly people who don't know French, that translates into "hello, my little cabbages". Funny, isn't it? I got some reviews and I want to thank you guys again for some great ideas. I loved the one about the blanket ;D.I will try to improve my dialog. It has never been my strong spot, but I will try. At the end of this chapter I am going to tell you people a name for the baby I have been thinking of because you people said you don't care if I told you. So I will. Yeah, I just now realized in chapter 35 I gave little hints about that next chapter (at least I think I did)except I was mistaken. I think the hint will be for this chapter or next. Things just keep getting longer and longer. :3 I'm sorry about that. Enjoy Chapter 37!

I was busy floating around in my little dream world at about 6:00 in the morning when the poking started. Poke, poke. I stopped dragging my feet in the weird substance my dream-ground was made out of and looked down at my stomach. Poke, poke, and poke. Someone was prodding my belly and it was annoying me a lot. I was having fun before they started messing around with my tummy.

"Stop poking me." I demanded into thin air, but my voice made no sound. "Stop poking me!" I said a little louder. Sadly enough, it was then I was sucked from my happy little dream world and I found myself lying mostly-asleep on a soft bed.

Poke. Poke, poke. I kept my eyes closed and grumbled to my anonymous poker, "Quit poking me…."

Poke. I threw off my covers angrily and sat up. "QUIT POKING M-"and I stopped. It turns out I was alone on the bed. Peeta was on the other side of the room, shirtless, and digging though his closet. When he heard me, he twisted around to look at me with a confused expression on.

I opened my mouth to make up an excuse, when—poke, poke. I moved a cautious hand down to my stomach where nothing (apparently) was poking me. I waited with my hand pressed lightly there.

Poke, poke. There it was! Something nudged the inside of my hand and I nearly jumped a foot in the air. "Peeta! Peeta, come here!"

Peeta tossed the clothes he was holding back into the closet and sat across from me. "What is it? Is anything wrong?"

I shook my head. "No. Here…" I took his hand and put it gently against the spot where mine was. I held his hand there until it happened again. Poke. Poke, poke.

Peeta's hand twitched and I felt him inhale abruptly. "Was that…?"

I laughed quietly, simply perplexed. "What else could it be?"

We took our hands away and I could make out a small shape bulging from my stomach. A tiny foot.

"No one was poking me." I said, holding Peeta's hand back in place. "My baby was kicking."

Peeta laughed, too. "Unbelievable."

I stared down at it in awe. Just the day after the doctor told me I was due in two weeks he started kicking. I rolled my eyes a little at myself. It sounded so… stereotypical or… fake. All the people in the movies are like, "Oh, Henry come feel! My baby is kicking! Isn't it absolutely wonderful?" But here Peeta and I were, sitting on his bed, feeling my kid kick.

"This is… really weird." Peeta adjusted his position on the bed and leaned forward again.

I raised my eyebrows lightly at him.

"Like the good kind of weird." Nice save, Peeta.

"It is…" Just when I was getting use to someone kicking my hand from inside of me, it stopped. Just for good measure, we waited a few more seconds, but nothing happened.

I sighed. "Show's over. Now it is time for me to take a shower." I stretched out my stiff legs and swung them over the side of the bed.

"I'll walk you to your room." Peeta offered his hand to me, but I hesitated taking it.

"Um… You might want to get some clothes on before we go walking around in public." I stifled a laugh and Peeta looked down at his bare chest.

As he went over to the closet, I heard him grumble loudly, "Shirts are overrated."

"Yes, completely overrated. Are you saying you would rather not wear one?" I asked him matter-of-factly.

He shrugged, but I could tell he was trying not to laugh. "No. I am just saying they are overrated."

"Of course you are…"

As soon as I took a shower and got dressed, Peeta and I went to breakfast. As we walked in, it seemed as though twice as many people as usual greeted me. After saying "hello" and "thanks" to it looks like the whole cafeteria (it is surprising how fast news spreads), I sat down at my usual table with a sigh.

"How is everything today?" my mother asked me, handing me a portion of buttered bread.

"Fine. I, um…" I tried to think of a way to say it without sounding cheesy and movie-like. "He was, um… kicking this morning."

As I expected, almost half the table exploded into cheers. Prim especially seemed happy. She squeezed in between Peeta and I (mother scolded her for that) and hugged me closely.

I peeked over Prim's head and saw Gale. He was smiling shyly but there was no trace of jealousy on his face as usual. I reached around my little sister and gripped his hand tightly. He looked appreciative.

"Ms. Everdeen?" I groaned loudly as I heard the professional voice behind me. This happens way too often, these doctors sneaking up behind me at breakfast. It seems like every day they come in and drag me away from family. If I wasn't so ticked at them right now it might have been funny. But it wasn't.

Without even glancing behind me to check who it was, I kissed Prim on the forehead and got up.

"Please follow me—"

"I know." I nodded to Peeta for him to stay there and followed the nurse lady out of the cafeteria with a horrid scowl on my face.

Bad news fellows. THIS CHAPTER ENDS HERE. I'm sorry that I keep saying that this certain stuff happens this certain chapter, but I am not going to promise you guys that any more. It will happen though. Sometime. Now, I want your opinions on this name that I came up for the baby:

First name: Alexander

Middle name: Schuyler (pronounced Skyler)

Last name: (of course) Everdeen.

Alexander Schuyler Everdeen. I love that name soo much! Tell me if you like it too, okay? :3