You Don’t Know Who the Baby Looks Like. You Just Don’t.

Even when I look real close, I can’t tell!

Last night I went for a run and took my iPhone along because I wanted to listen to a new playlist that I had downloaded earlier in the day. About a mile into it, the music was interrupted by notification of a tweet I had received from a random woman who was commenting on a piece I had written for TLC which discussed the advantages of being an older parent. I actually fired back with a few taps of my thumbs without even breaking stride, and once I did, I was taken aback by the entire experience. I was essentially having a conversation with a woman I had never met before about the birth of my youngest child. While running. Through the use of my phone. (And I once thought call waiting was the shit…)

Yet as much as technology has changed the way in which I’m able to converse about my newborn, human nature has insisted that some of the conversations remain the exact same as they’ve always been. And I was reminded of this earlier today when Grand Finale and I ran into an old friend who engaged me in such a conversation.

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Grand Finale Osborne

Shhhh. He’s sleeping.

So, just two weeks and six days until Grand Finale Osborne begins his reign of planet Earth. That noise you may have heard a second ago? It was the sound of the brick I just passed hitting the ground. Because I gotta admit, I’m freaking out a bit. And the plethora of Dr. Brown’s bottles which have suddenly appeared out of nowhere?

Not helping. But one thing that does help is looking at these pictures of him.

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