Happy Birthday, Erik!

It was four years ago today - actually it was about this time of the morning, too - when my second son came into the world. Ever the dutiful father, I was playing NHL on my PlayStation 2 while the missus was sleeping off her birthday cake. Shortly thereafter, the missus came to the steps, and said, "I think something is wrong with the baby."

Naturally, I said what any expectant father would say: "Can it wait a minute? I'm going into overtime here!"

Don't send hate mail. I'm kidding.

The missus called the doctor and they told her to get to the hospital, post haste. What a nightmare. I was driving like Jeff Gordon, and she was screaming like a banshee. "Ooh, it hurts!" Like I needed that while I was doing 85 in a 35 mph zone. We arrived at the Emergency Room, and after I slowed down to 25, she tucked-and-rolled out of the car and into a waiting wheelchair.

I went home and went back to my game.

After I parked the car, we met in the maternity unit, where a sheepish wife looked at me and said, "They told me nothing is wrong. I was having contractions. *Giggle*"

Eh, what?

See, our first son, Kyle, was born six weeks early. With Kyle, her water broke, we rushed to the hospital, and she got an epidural fairly quickly. The wife never had contractions before, so she had no idea what was going on with the pain. Erik came to us roughly without incident - save for the contractions flap - and has been a Terminator ever since.

See, the boy is Unbreakable. He has fallen down steps, been stepped on by his brother, plays tackle football with kids twice his age (and kicks ass), and thinks jumping off his moving swing is "fun." The kid can't be stopped. Ironic, since we thought we were going to have serious issues with him four years ago.

Erik's idea of a perfect day is eating Oreos, playing with his Leapster, and watching The Backyardigans. Somehow, I think we'll be able to manage that for him today.