The comfort of superlatives

(oh, looks like a spot of weather on the way)

Assuming we still have some time before this kid arrives, you're going to be subjected to even more random musings than either you or I hoped to see. Nobody's happy about this, but lets just suck it up, ok?

Every time it snows in Boston we take a perverse pleasure in hoping for more and more snow. What fun is it if we just get 10 inches? Nobody feels bad for you, and all the old timers will keep bringing up the winter of '78 (or some such famous storm). I can barely remember the weather yesterday, so forget about remembering snows from years past. But when we get a Hum-dinger, oh that's the fun stuff. It's completely worth the backbreaking shoveling, and the dangerous driving to just know that somewhere, somebody else that wasn't around will think to themselves "Whoa. That's impressive"

Which brings us to this massive child Corrie is working on now. Looks like we got ourselves a big 'un, at least according to the Dr. That rumor about bigger babies sleeping better has been soundly and completely dismissed (Thanks S.MS. for that one). The world record currently stands at 14 lbs, but there's just no way we're ever going to approach that. So what she's looking at is really the worst scenario. Delivering a baby that's by all legitimate standards, pretty fr*****g big, but having to undergo the indignity down the road of hearing from at least one person in each mommy-group, "that's nothing, little Sheldon here was 10 lbs, and it took me 72 hours of blindingly painful labor to get him out, but it was all worth it wasn't it?"

We hate those people.