Whoomp! There it is!

This morning I wake up and hear a shouted conversation in the darkness.
"Wash the baby? She has? In the house? Where in the house? Where's the other one? What?"

I roll over and return briefly to the dream I was having: upper-class Catholic Teddy Bears had tricked me into attending Mass in a spectacular Baroque chapel in order to revive my interest in Catholocism. At the eleventh hour I discover the horrible secret of the pious Teddy Bears: hoardes of enslaved Graham Cracker Babies forced to mine coal deep beneath the Teddy Bear Town, never seeing the light of day, cruelly mistreated by Teddy Bear overseers. 'Ha! I said triumphantly to my dismayed companions. "I bet there's no Sundays off in church for the poor Graham Cracker babies!"

My Biker rushed in at this point. " You want we wash the baby, we have it now over going up!"
I sat on the edge of the bed and struggled with this.
" I said, Lori had their baby on the living room and we have to wash the baby over" he repeated.
"Why do we have to wash a baby?" I asked, thinking 'Yeah, someone's sleepwalking again. I'll get his ass calmed down and sat on the couch and pretty soon he'll just keel over and fall back asl-
" Watch. Watch. We have to watch Alex. Lori had her baby" he repeated.
Oh.
Well fine.
"You drive," I said.

We showed up at Lori's door at the same time the EMT's, two police cars AND the fricken' Border Patrol arrived. I'm sure the Minuteman Militia were out there in the darkness somewhere too, just in case she had a couple of Al Quaida operatives up there.

It is 2: 45 a.m. Lori greets us with a cheerful 'Hi!"
Lori is in her bathrobe and flannel nighgown, sitting on the floor next to the sofa, smiling calmly, not one hair disturbed, not one droplet of sweat on her face. She is holding a tiny, tiny purple baby, who is is yawning. The only evidence that a dramatic natural process has occurred here is Lori's fuzzy bunny slippers, which are drenched in blood. Apparently between the time her water broke as she was fast asleep in bed and the time she had waddled as far as the front room, the baby just sort of blooped out, like a little purple bungee jumper.
" Yeah, it was fast," explained new dad, completely at sea. "I looked over to ask her something while I was on the phone talking to the EMT's and there was another face looking at me."
Meanwhile Lori gathered up her baby, put a little newborn's hat on him (which went right down over his little head past his nose) and walked over to the gurney, where the EMT's strapped her down and shuttled her away to the ambulance.
The Biker and I picked up their sleeping two-year-old and took him home with us while the new dad followed mom in his car.

Mommy and baby are fine. He weighed in at 5 lbs, two ounces. I've made loaves of bread bigger than that. His name is Sean.
We call him 'Speedy'.