A story? You’d like me to read you a story?
Which one would you like, my darling boy?
“Go, Dog, Go?” Again? The first 10,000 times were fun, but I swear to god, if mommy has to read that again, she’ll dig out her left eye with a grapefruit spoon….no, don’t go and get me a grapefruit spoon! How about I tell you another story, a true story?
This story starts exactly 5 years ago today. You were in my tummy and you’d been in there for 9 months and 10 days, and you just wouldn’t get out. I tried a lot of stuff. Jumping up and down. Herbal teas. KFC (my boss’ wife’s told me that would work for sure. All I got was heartburn). But you were really stubborn. And for some reason, I had this wicked craving for corn, right before I went to bed. Ate a whole can of it. Weird, right?
I never did go to sleep the night before. I felt yucky. Stayed up reading. No, not “Go, Dog, Go”. Geez, I used to read all the time before you were born. Books without pictures. Yeah I’m serious. Can I keep going? Thank you. And then at about 4 in the morning, I had really big tummy pains. Daddy had watched enough TV to know that the fact that they were coming every 5 minutes meant we should get to the hospital. Well, actually, his first instinct was to boil water and rip up our sheets. Damn those 30 minute sitcoms! Your dad had to go warm up the car because it was -40. Yeah, that’s really cold. Yes, if you had been there you would have had to wear snow pants. Well, actually, you were there…can I finish this, please?
We drove right up to the emergency room, into the ambulance bay. I think your dad was really hoping someone would try to give him heck for that, so that he could yell at them “Hey, my wife’s in labor you son of a ….”. Um, where was I? Oh yeah, so I get in there, and this nice intern brought me a wheelchair, and said he’d take me up to the delivery room. I tried to say thank you. Instead, I threw up. No, they didn’t make me clean it up. Then, he wheeled me into an elevator. And I threw up on his shoes. Well, it wasn’t very funny at the time. Yeah, OK, I guess that is pretty hilarious. You’re gonna lay an egg, if you keep cackling like that.
So I get into the delivery room, and you’re already pretty much on your way out. The nurse tells me to stop pushing, but I say….what do you mean you don’t want to hear this part? It’s not gross, it’s a normal, human…oh fine. But really, there’s no story without this part.
Yes, you were cute. How did we know your name? Well, it just fit you. No, you couldn’t talk. You just cried a little, then fell asleep. Of course we loved you right away. But not as much as we do today…hey, do you have any questions about any of this? Um, I think that doctor’s shoes were a black leather wingtip. I gotta tell ya, when I was going through it, I never imagined that would be the part of the story someone would want me to tell again and again. Oh fine, it’s your birthday. Here we go again. So, I lean over the side of the wheelchair and let ‘er rip…
Happy Birthday, buddy.