But, first, I’ll tell you a little story.

Did you know that my grandmother was born on February 2? Did you know that she gave birth to my mother on her own birthday? That said, would you like to take a guess at what my due date was? (That would be February 2, for those of you who don’t have time to figure it out.) Neat, huh? 

Now, maybe it’s because I’ve always done things a little differently or because someone was reading me Emily Post so I knew, even then, how rude it is to be late. Maybe it’s because I didn’t want to steal anyone’s thunder by making my first appearance on their birthdays. Or, maybe I just had my little baby checklist completed and had nothing else to do. Whatever the reason, I didn’t hold out until February 2. I was here two days early (which isn’t too early to be breach the laws of good etiquette, and therefore qualifies as punctual).  Hmm, what do you know? Even as a fetus I was uptight.

Madeline will have not only my uptight, punctual genes but also those of her laid-back daddy. He liked his cozy little womb, where he was curled up on his fetal couch with the remote, watching SportsCenter. He was perfectly comfortable – comfortable enough to stay put for an additional two weeks. Yes, two entire weeks past his due date, he finally arrived. I guess there is the possibility that he was just doing the fashionably late thing. What a trend-setter!

With only four and a half weeks until we’re expecting our special delivery, everyone seems to have an idea of when she will come. Her uncle Benjamin (Uncle Willie) and my aunt Sue are both guessing Thanksgiving Day. My dear friend, Nina, wants her to be born on her due date so they can share a birthday. Dan has a whole, elaborate plan worked out in which she will arrive the day after Thanksgiving, AFTER the Alabama-Auburn game, of course.

So, what do you think?  Vote now!

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