This is terrible. Since about a week ago, we've been thinking that the baby would come any time. Actually, it's been more than a week. I didn't write anything about it before, because I was certain I would jinx it. But it seems now that nothing in the universe affects this boy!

There was a significant biological event, a step towards labor, according to all publications and available sources of information. The member of parliament had left the building, so to speak. Following this event, things were to begin happening. We were excited. It was Thursday, the 26th of June. It occurred in the afternoon. And then, the amazing reality slammed into us like a ton of bricks.

"So this is going to happen, then?" I said in my mind's poorly-paraphrased reconstruction.

"Looks that way," said my wife in my mind's reconstruction, which is clearly inaccurate.

"How soon?" I asked, though clearly I was probably hysterical, and making assumptions about time, impact and everything else.

"Could be a couple hours, could be a week," said my wife in my now clearly debunked re-enactment.

"Skreeglekreegleteehee." This may be the only accurate portion of my mind's reconstruction, since I quickly got off the phone and spun three times in my desk chair and make a noise when I found out about the whereabouts of the member of parliament.

But since then, there's been nothing. This is agony. This is torture. The doctor, we say Tuesday, the 1st of July.

"Could be a couple hours, could be a week," she said in this particular re-enactment, sounding eerily like my wife discussing the same thing in my earlier re-enactment.

"Skreeglekreegleteehee."

But even since then, I have slowly lost the skreegle-ness of the moment. I can't possibly function as if this baby will come every second of the day. It would make a person insane. I told a co-worker how I'm nervous when I ride the elevator because I'm out of cell-contact with my wife. But that's clearly insane.

It turns out, though, that insanity is a thing of degrees. I've reviewed this bit of information, and I'm fairly certain that I didn't imagine it: My mom drives around all day to meetings, classes, rehearsals, camp sessions and whatnot, in service of the school for the performing arts she operates in Pennsylvania. In the car, throughout her travels, is a fully-packed bag, with toiletries, several changes of clothes, everything she would need. She has created a situation where she would not need to take a dangerous and time-consuming 15 minute trip home once we alerted her to a pending birth. She could get in her car and immediately drive away, like a person involved in an elaborate, multi-phase, high-stakes scam, who got word that things were going south and the only way out was to stop whatever they were doing and leave instantly. (I cannot think of movie where this occurs, but it seemed like a good example when I began.)

My wife's parents are more like the people that the police catch trying to look casual all the time, because they've got packed bags sitting inside the door to their bedroom, just waiting for the sign. I've made the joke several times that they are actually circling our city in an AWACs-equipped 747, constantly monitoring all sorts of back-lit green screens, waiting for a few key pieces of information to fall into place before they "take her down."

Of course, my father plans on personally piloting his aircraft here from his undisclosed location, landing it at a major airport and driving straight to the hospital in a rental car. He is a physician and a pilot, and he claims to have "worked" at the hospital we're planning on having the baby at. One of the worst possible baby-related outcomes we've allowed ourselves to entertain is having my father somehow having to get medically involved with the birth. My wife strenuously opposes anything like this. Strenuously.

In fact, I wish she were strenuously having this baby, instead of worrying the details. But no, we're re-arranging the guest room, we're cleaning the bathroom, we're emptying the fridge, we're seeing movies, we're doing everything but giving birth.

WHEN WILL YOU COME? Come soon.