As noted in last week’s post, Miss Crankypants is immersed in all things delivery. As in Baby delivery. One of her friends pointed out that Miss Cranky may be more excited about her soon-to-arrive grandson than the parents are. Well, duh.
Having exhausted most of the chuckly material from Papa, we find ourselves once again  focusing on poor Mama-to-be. There was this slightly humorous deal about a lost mucous plug (Papa fainted), but that may be too personal for a family blog.
So here we are with Miss Waddles, as pretty as ever but with this gi-normous bump hanging from her belly.
 Miss CP knows a thing or two about giving birth. She’s hatched four of these tiny humans–the last time, two at once. And since Miss Walks-like-a-duck is one of those twins, she deserves payback for all the back labor her mom endured.
Miss Crankypants is ruthless: “We are going to walk this baby out by Good Friday!”
“But Mom, it’s probably not real labor. Remember that 5-1-1 rule?”
Miss CP growls, “We’ll review while we walk the streets for hours! Let’s go!”
Mama Duck: “Help me off this sofa will you?”
Outside, it’s only showering, not raining. In Oregon the difference (at least in the newspaper forecast) is a closed umbrella vs. an open umbrella. Miss CP doesn’t get this–hardly anybody here uses an umbrella. In fact, the umbrella-toters are usually the tourists. But back to showers and walkers and babies. Oh my!
Miss CP keeps a lively pace. “OK. 5-1-1. So the five is for the number of times you have to revive your husband after you tell him it’s time to go.”
Miss Dux: “(puff, huff, gasp!) Get real, will you? Five is for contractions five minutes apart.”
“So are you timing them yet? Want me to help?” Miss Cranky dances around the Bump.
“No “My phone has an app for that.” Preggo stops in the middle of the street. “Oh why did I ever agree to this?”
Miss CP prods Preg’s back until, using the term loosely, she’s walking again. “And the one is so you don’t forget the one thing you really need in labor: CHAPSTICK!”
Mrs. Ducks glares. “It means your contractions last for a full minute.” Rolls eyes. “Didn’t you learn anything in that class we went to?”
“Whatever. The other “one” must be in case you forget the first one. Right? I mean who wants dry chapped lips when you’re in transition?”
Missy Mommy faces Miss Crankypants. “No, the second one means the contractions go on for at least an hour. Can we go home now?”
Miss CP shakes a fist. “We’re not stopping until we get a baby!”
“But you said God will determine when the baby comes.”
Miss CP frowns. “Hmm, did I? Well then we’ll walk until you have five contractions lasting an hour apiece. Did you remember to pack that chap stick?”
And so they walk. And walk. Up hills and down. On the curb. By the river. Waiting faithfully for something to happen. And when it does, you can bet Miss Crankypants will be the first one to call 5-1-1.