Being Late

This is Josh: Waking up in a blur. Throwing clothes on and rushing outside. Running to catch the train. Missing it, continuing to run straight for the next 10 minutes. Not in running shoes. Showing up at class five minutes before it ends. Putting my paper on the stack in the front of the room. Sitting down in class, sweating, breathing a sigh of relief. I made it.

Versions of this scenario replayed itself many times throughout college.

Of course, by most people’s standards, I didn’t make it. I was over an hour late. Most people would’ve gotten to class five minutes early, especially on a day when a paper was due. But I, unfortunately, am not most people in this regard. I’ve always been late to things, even when those things are important.

But in the end it always works out.

I was thinking about this as I woke up this morning. Our baby’s due date is today, and he has not yet decided to show up. But, there’s still time.

In fact, he can safely show up anytime in the next two weeks. And, given his procrastinator heritage, I’m guessing he will wait a significant amount of those two weeks before showing up at the last moment.

So I’m not stressing it. I know he’s enjoying his last days in the womb, partying late with the placenta and umbilical cord, waking up in the outfit he wore yesterday.

But I have one message for him: he’s about to enter a new stage of life, and the outside world won’t tolerate such tardiness. He should thank his mother for putting up with him. - Josh