Buy the Poster…I’m not an affiliate but if I give them a link maybe they’ll be less pissed off about me using their image.
Princess Q and I crossed paths this morning at 3:40. I woke up for some reason and knew I wouldn’t get back to sleep. She was just finishing up her homework after a three day weekend. The acorn didn’t fall too far from the tree here. My motto has always been, “Never do today what you can put off ’till tomorrow.” I’m a little concerned though. In her defense, the big stumbling block was a group project, sort of a procratinator’s mind meld. But if she’s reached this level at 15, what’s she going to be like in college. She’s also discovered coffee. Poor kid, way too much like her father. Wouldn’t it be nice if I could sit her down and say “OK, we share these traits and this is how they will bite you in the ass, so avoid X, Y and Z and you can skip a shitload of the pain I went through getting my gray hair.” But I guess there’s a reason why everyone has to live there own lives.
Maybe it had something to do with the circumstances of her birth. She came, in the tradition of our children, a couple of weeks early. Beck and I were attending a Twins game. It was Oakland. When you leave the metrodome, there is a terrific air pressure drop, you practically get shot our the door by the rush or pressurized air. Something to consider if you’re pregnancy is dragging on and you want to get the ball rolling. So as we walked to our car, Beck got a strange look on her face and said, “My water just broke.” This in the middle of a huge crowd of people. So we went home, experienced baby producers that we were, to calmly get ready to head for the hospital. That’s all great, but I had two spot drawings due at the publisher the next day. I brought my drawing stuff with me and we settled in at the hospital, with the usual, “We’ll see how it goes and if nothing happens by morning, we’ll induce.” So I got to work on the drawings, but fatigue, nervousness and the strange environment conspired to grind my creativity to a halt. I called the art director in the morning, “Hi, the good news is, we’re having a baby. The bad news is, I don’t have your drawings done.” This is the same art director that had told me earlier that she didn’t give me false deadlines because I was always on time. Fortunately for me the a.d. called my good buddy and fellow emancipated animation slave, Steve Mark, who whipped the job out and made the deadline. So my putting off the work until the last minute (I probably had a week to work on it) created an aura that was directly assimilated into her young brain.
Someday, I might tell about the delivery, but that’s another story.