Christopher was late from day one. That's what we all thought, at least. Two weeks after my due date my obstetrician suggested an ultrasound. Back in those days, they didn't just whip out the ultrasound machine for any pregnant person who lay still long enough. Jennifer didn't warrant one at all and this was my first. I had to walk across the parking lot to the hospital to get to the machine. I thought it would be great, but I couldn't see anything useful on the screen. I asked the tech if he could see anything boy-or-girl related and he said no, it was too crowded in there. What it did show was a lot of placental calcification, so the doctor decided to induce immediately. I have since learned that calcification occurs at different rates and there's no way to accurately calculate placental age by it. Maybe the induction was unnecessary. It was successful, nonetheless, and my doctor was convinced that my calendar skills were sub-par. Someone commented on Christopher's fine appearance and he said, "Sure he looks good, he's almost a month old." Yeah.
Anyway, he still looks good. Earlier this week he flew to California to help his girlfriend drive her car back to Maryland for the summer, making it possible for him to turn 21 while in Las Vegas, an incontestable scheduling triumph. If he had followed my schedule, he would have had a birthday right before finals. So it all worked out.