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.