Baby Davison is on the move to the lower 48. Erin will be on the move to the rest room. Frequently.

Baby Davison put the head down and dropped last night. [4/8/02 UPDATE: Or not.] That means the kid is in prime birthing position and should appear in a nearby hospital labor and delivery room within four weeks. Erin and I both plan to be there when that happens. I mean, it’s a can’t-miss-it event, right? Especially if you’re, like, tethered to the kid. But I’m planning to be there too, even if my attachment is more..uh…emotional? cerebral? telekinetic? I dunno, but it must be love.

Baby dropping also means Erin will be carrying baby lower, dealing with a squashed bladder for the next four weeks. Chance of a bathroom trip every 10 minutes? Likely. As they say in the Mafia, dem’s da breaks. Actually, I don’t know if that’s in the Cosa Nostra phrase book or not, but if so, they probably didn’t mean it in a bathroom context. It just sounded funny, like something Humphery Bogart might have said in Casablanca. Of course, there were no Mafia or Italians of any kind in Casablanca, so I have no idea where I’m going with this. My thoughts get more random when I’m happy. I’m happy an awful lot nowadays. Baby’s due in a month. So if God’s hitting me upside the head with a silly stick, it’s a preparatory measure, I’m sure.