Pic of the Morning

Patrick has been sleeping soundly for most of the morning.  He had a good first night.

Daddy, on the other hand, found himself standing over the bassinet at 4:30AM with a veteran labor and delivery nurse looking over his shoulder.  I had been asleep at 4:29:38AM.  She had been working since 7PM.  Look, I'm no octo-dad or anything, but I've changed my share of diapers.  It's just been awhile.  She prodded, "Is he wet?  Have you checked him?  Aren't you going to change him?"  Me: "Uh, uh, where's Ginger?  Who's wet?  Who are you?  I don't know a Linda.  Whose kid is this?"  Let's go to baseball for an analogy . . .

Remember Nolan Ryan?  The all-time strikeout leader?  He pitched until he was 46-years old.  He's 62 now, and I'd be willing to bet he could still strike out about 30% of current major league players.  But you start him in a game in the Majors today, and he's gonna give up a few hits.  And if he played, you wouldn't see Tim Lincecum, the current NL Cy Young frontrunner, walk up to Nolan Ryan and tease him.  You know why?  Because Lincecum respects those that came before him.  And because he recognizes that ol' Nolan can probably still bring the heat with a little practice.

Well, I was Nolan Ryan this morning at 4:30AM, and Nurse "Hotshot" Linda was taunting me.  And she continued to taunt me, "[Baby talk] Is your daddy still sleepin'?  He doesn't know what hims is doing does he?  Look at hims trying to put that teeny tiny diaper on your little bottom.  Hims so clumsy."  If nurse Linda is around NEXT Tuesday morning at 4:30AM, I'm gonna hurl a 92 MPH fastball diaper change at her head.  Because give me some time, and I'll be back in top form.  But come on! Twelve hours after he's born?  I'm dead asleep, and you're taunting me?  My oldest is four and a half; I'm rusty.  Give me a break, Nurse Linda.  I'll see you in the playoffs.