Two years ago today, my charming daughter announced at a family gathering that she was expecting. We swallowed it up, complete with the tale of failed birth control and having to drop out of the masters program she'd just begun. None of us were amused when she fessed up.
So yesterday during her daily "I'm fine, Little Evan isn't coming yet" phone call, I told her that she absolutely can not go into labor today because I'm totally expecting a call telling me she's on her way to the hospital. And I will not believe her. Nor will I make the two-hour drive to Logan. She asked what she should do if she really is in labor. I suggested a code word. She pointed out she might just consider using it as part of her story. We didn't come up with a solution...other than keeping her legs crossed until tomorrow. It might also help if she stopped telling fibs. (Just kidding hon, keep those fibs coming.)