The Due Date

My dear, humongous pregnant friend, The Giant Colossal Panda is coming upon her due date.  Tomorrow to be exact.  So far, all signs point to no – no labor, no delivery, no baby, and no release from the gargantuan beach ball that she’s carrying around with her.  Turns out, less than 5% of babies are born on their due dates.  What the heck is up with that?

So why give a date that everyone is waiting around for if chances are (with a 95% likelihood) that baby isn’t even coming on that date?  It’s like an Italian train schedule.  Maybe the train to Roma will be there at 6pm and maybe not.  Or a Mexican bus.  Or your luggage on United.  The point is, when I got to thinking about it, there are quite a few things out there that are supposed to run on a time schedule that makes sense, but never do.  Like when a guy says he’ll call and you hear from him a week later.  When someone says I’ll call you later, it should mean within a 24 hour time period.  After that a little punishment is in order.  Nothing severe mind you, but maybe like a mugging or a gunshot wound to the foot.

I’ll update you readers out there if anything changes, but as of right now, The Colossal Panda is here to stay…and stay…and stay.  Pass the pasta and the chocolate croissant.

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