We had our hospital tour the other day, and it felt pretty much like touring Monticello or some other exhibit, except instead of staring at Thomas Jefferson’s antique desk—we all watched in awe as the delivery room hospital beds folded like origami with the touch of a button.
It was hard not to get distracted by my own thoughts…
This is where our daughter will be born. Here. In this place. In this city. And these people on the tour with us will be having kids at around the same time as her. Their kids could attend her school, too. Man, these people don’t seem to know how to walk in groups in an organized manner. What if all of these people have idiot kids? Oh God—our daughter is going to be surrounded by idiots. Ok, seriously, did that 6’7” guy just stand in front of me again? Where is your sense of courtesy, guy!?! You know you’re 6’7”, right? You’ve probably been this tall for a very long time, and yet you don’t appear to have any spacial awareness. Note to self: teach our kids about spacial awareness. Wait, what did the nurse just say? Shit. I hope Tate was listening. Ugh, I hope we snag a room with a window. Is that Susan Sarandon in the waiting area?
Six weeks to go.