It's Saturday afternoon. My mother-in-law's canaries are going off on the balcony, and it's hot like Summer already.
Nothing new to report on the Vito front. He's still happily ensconced in wombage.
It's a little stressful, every day with no big change, taking notice of every alteration and contraction of the fetus that goes bump in the night. If he doesn't emerge of his own volition within the next two days, we're told that Monday will be the day of days.
It would be fun if he arrived tomorrow to throw a wrench into all of our Mother's Day plans. I don't know what those plans are at the moment, but I'm sure they involve going to the countryside.
Whatever happens, you'll be the first to know. Aside from those of you who are here in the flesh, that is...