Speak of the Devil

Happy Easter, everyone, and I apologize for the inappropriate devil talk on this particular day. But I have the increasingly rare combination of a story to tell and some time to blog, so there you go.

When I first went to the baby doctor last fall, she projected the Peanut's due date as June 9th. There was soon thereafter some joking around with friends about how we hoped she wouldn't be 3 days early, as that would make her birthday 6/6/06, or 666, which is a number often associated with the "beast"(devil). I didn't think too much about it, and laughed it off, as I am not really a supersticious person and think such talk is silly. But then, this past Friday night, we went to the movies (Inside Man is pretty OK, but not great, by the way) and there was a preview that went like this: You see a park on a gray day, and a sort of scary looking dog sitting on the ground minding his own buisiness. Then the camera pans over to a kid on a swing. You see him from behind, and he is wearing a red British-looking prep-school uniform and he is swinging slowly, and the swing is going creak...creak...creak...and then the camera goes around to the front of the boy, who is maybe 5 or 6, and he is just sort of staring off into space, and then he turns and stares VERY creepily into the camera, and the movie announcer voice says something about him being born on 6/6/06, and some scary dramatic music plays. I looked wide-eyed from the screen to Kev to my belly in distress. Then I laughed.

Now, here's the thing. My doctor has recently decided that if the baby doesn't decide to come out on her own beforehand, we are going to induce labor early in the morning of June 5 (like 7:30am). She said on average, it then takes about 12 hours. So as long as the baby arrives before midnight, which I fully expect she will, we will not have to worry about the 666 thing. And frankly, I'm not worried about it anyway. But then today during breakfast, Kev and LarryFeathers were going on and on about trying to get my doctor to change the date, because while they don't buy into such deviltry silliness, other people might, and thus give the Peanut a hard time about her birthday for the rest of her life. I couldn't tell if they were just trying to get me going, or if they were really serious about trying to change the date. Now, I can't very well go in in there and look my doctor in the eye and say, "Well, you see, now we're going to have to alter the plan a little so I don't have a possible devil baby." How embarrassing. And I told this to Kev and Larry, but they kept on insisting I was making a big mistake taking a chance like that. It was a stressful meal.

So, that is my Easter story about the devil.

On a happier note, here is a little song you can sing (if you want) to the tune of the Oscar Mayer balogna song:

Our Peanut has a first name
We think it's pretty swell
Our Peanut has a second name
And that one's nice as well

We'd love to tell you if we could
But we don't really think we shooooooould...
'Cause if we did, it wouldn't be
an S-U-P-R-I-S-E.

Happy Easter everybody!