Jerry and I attempted the impossible while planning our weeklong trip to Rochester: We tried to time it around Courtney going into labor.
Her due date was July 31, but everyone, including her doctor, thought she would go early.
We missed it by a few days.
In fact, just hours after we left, I got a text message from Court saying she was having contractions. After a week of talking to her belly, telling her son I wanted him to come out and play, I couldn't help but laugh. What can I say? The kid's got comedic timing.
When Allison's cries woke me up Saturday morning, I groggily turned to Jerry and asked what time it was. He reached for his cell phone, and without saying a word, turned to me after clicking a few buttons, displaying a picture of a little blue bundle.
I sprung out of bed, scooped up Allison, handed her to Jerry and ran downstairs to check my phone. Then, realizing I had to pee, headed straight for the bathroom.
And in my excitement of gazing at the newest member of my pseudo extended family, I dropped my phone in the toilet.
And it's fried.
And I don't have insurance on it.
And I lost all of my numbers and pictures.
And it's a total pain in the ass inconvenience.
Now I can't wait to tell little Jackson Mitchell all about the time his aunt Kelly
was so excited to see his adorable face that she fumbled her phone into her own pee.
Welcome to the world, little man. I can't wait to squeeze you.