You are going to be a dad!

I have some catching up to do.

This whole predicament started at Fort Lauderdale International Airport. I don't mean we conceived there, although that would have made for an interesting story, I mean, at the airport, I found out Tracy was pregnant. Discovering you are going to be a dad, coupled with an almost paralyzing fear of flying, can send one rapidly skating towards the land of unconsciousness. Luckily there was First-Aid nearby. And by that, I mean beer. I walked up to the bartender to order our drinks.

"What'll ya have?"

"I just found out my wife is pregnant!"

"Nice for you. What'll you have?" (Ah, the South Floridian demeanor.)

"Draft beer and a water please."

I brought the beverages back to our table and questioned my wife why she waited until 10 minutes before boarding a flight to New Hampshire to tell me. She explained something about just finding out herself right before I picked her up, and after that I was a road raging asshole as soon as we hit the traffic on I95 (which is true), etc etc.

The details of her explanation are a little fuzzy since she was hard to hear over the voice in my head screaming "Your life will never be the same from here on out!". Honestly, we were both spooked.

Raising my lager and her H2O, we toasted each other and readied to board the plane with some news to tell the family once we arrived. After that, the next big item on the docket was our first sonogram.