dug 
So C, it was a Tuesday afternoon, the 7th of February 2006. When I got home early you didn’t seem surprised and you didn’t notice that Mom was writing times down on a piece of paper and bouncing with intent on her large rubber ball.
We put you to bed at seven. Mom spilled the beans and told you that Dug and Nicki were going to the hospital that night and that donut (you christened the bump) was going to come out tonight.
Well, it’s eight thirty, you’re still jumping up and down up in your room (and playing with the princess Aurora lamp you picked out in Homebase when you were three-and-a-half) and Mom is having 60 second contractions every six minutes. With any luck, you’ll have a little brother by morning.