Due Dates Are Rubbish
Three weeks ago, Meg compiled a list of all the folks that needed to be on the baby announcement email. In retrospect, the best thing I could have done was send a simple, single email to the whole list, right off the bat. THERE IS NO BABY. YET. BUT YOU ARE ON THE ANNOUNCEMENT LIST.
Because people go crazy when a due date draws near. They seem to think it means something when really it means less than nothing. Especially when you have parents like me and Meg. I mean, honestly, when was the last time we were on time to anything?
Yeah, I participated in all the conjecture. And I really did have a feeling about Friday. Meg has to go back to teaching mid-January, and the earlier he comes, the more time she gets with him before life – what? – returns to normal? All our already-parent friends chuckle when I say junk like that.
No people, he's not here yet. Very little has changed, actually. I swear the belly dropped last week. But after today's doctor's appointment, I swear he made a northward retreat.
He's not here yet. But you'll get an ear full as soon as he is.