Truth: Having been told that we're having a girl, we walk outside, call our parents and then, with that done, my brain decides to tee up the opening chords to "Welcome to the Jungle." We're walking along 2nd Avenue and I'm waiting for Axl to get off an MTA bus with a stalk of wheat hanging out of his mouth. Damn Wifus promises she'll use it for the montage when they make my biopic.And yeah, that thing over her head? It's her hand. She's sucking her thumb.
The G'n'R has since passed from my head and I am currently walking around the halls of the office singing "Feel Like Funkin' It Up" by Rebirth Brass Band. Which probably has something to do with the fact that my wife is packing 10 fingers, 10 toes, good heart, good brain, and good lungs. And so I do feel like funkin' it up. I really do.
Update: Here's the day's soundtrack from FoDJ:
Update II: She has a spine that goes straight-curved-straight like an almost-set sun. She also had a femur that looks like a chicken bone. We counted all four chambers of the heart pumping. I don't think I'm comfortable even thinking about my own heart having four chambers working in unison.
Wifus and I both had the same reaction to seeing the heart: The idea that we were willing those chambers to keep hammering away. The terror that one of them could just decide to clock off early at any minute and then the whole thing will go higgledy piggledy. So I guess there's a reason we try to imagine the heart to look like one of the Lucky Charms marshmallows. Because a blob of muscle running on electronic pulses is a rather freaky thing.
