Ruth's and my life is slowly turning into a waiting game. It isn't yet Ruth's due date, but we're getting too close to feel like we can go anywhere more than an hour or so away, and we've started carrying the bags and car-seat with us when we go into town, just in case.
The other day we were driving along and suddenly Ruth says: "I think I'm leaking!" "What???" I said, with equal measures of apprehension and incredulity. Ruth, puzzled at my reaction I think, said, "My knee; the bandage on my knee has leaked through." [she'd scraped it up a couple of days prior] After slowing my heart-rate and waiting for my head to stop spinning, I sternly (but lovingly, of course) suggested that maybe 8 1/2 month pregnant women should choose their words more carefully.
From now on I'll try not to panic until the words "water," "broke," and "my" occur in the same sentence (they needn't necessarily be in that order).
My poor daughter, when she does arrive will be doomed to live with an inveterate geek for a father. Just how ridiculously geeky you ask? Just tell me this: How many unborn babies have, not only their own websites, but even their own domain names? This last bit of rhetorical drivel has been a needlessly circuitous way to introduce sophiarstewart.com. There isn't much up right now, but as soon as Sophia makes her public debut I'll post some photos and such.