d-minus-80

My Pregnant Wife left me a voicemail today informing me that we have 80 days left before we are no longer childless. While some people about to be married go out and sew their wild wheetabix, I am not sure of the procedure for celebrating unenkidcumbered marriage. Perhaps I will stay up until 2 and do homework. No doing that when I'm a dad, no sirrie. I'd get talcum powder all over my calculator.
Many of you have asked if we've picked out a name for the little bugger yet, and while we're down to a short list, we have decided to meet the little fellow before arbitrarily picking a name now that doesn't fit. Especially if he turns out to be ovarily surplused and tinkily challenged, since the pictures at right could be displaying a ham on rye and I wouldn't see it. I can tell you that neither of us want anything too out of the ordinary (his last name is unique enough without calling him Thelbert or Vlad or Ignacious), but did want something not every Tom, Dick, and Jacob has out there these days.

Also important is distinguishing him from the pets. We don't want to be calling for the boy and have one of the dogs think it's time for a bath. So avoiding anything that rhymes with Bailey, Dover, and Griffin, we are forced to leave out... Bailey ...... Grover .... and .... uh... Squiffin.

Remember, I'm not taking poetry classes here, give me a break.

dropoff-minus-79 here in a few minutes...