The Child of Three Planets

Sometimes I have the tendency to over-dramatize things, so keep that in mind when I tell you this next little story.

On the night that I found out I was to have a son I stepped out onto my deck and looked up at the moonlit sky, free of clouds and full of stars, and I saw three planets.

Just beneath the waxing gibbous sat Saturn, a golden dot that burned a little more brightly than the other points of light that surrounded it. Across the sky and just above the treeline I spotted Mars, unmistakable with its red hue. After Kaite confirmed my sightings using the magic of the internet on her phone I realized that I could see a third planet as well, just beneath my feet. Earth.

And so I came to think of my son as the Child of Three Planets.

You know, I just realized that I never told you his name. We're going to call him Donovan Douglas Wiles, and typing that is actually the first time that I've ever seen his full name written down. I like how it looks! 

Deciding his middle name was the easiest part. In December of 2012 my father, Douglas Allen Wiles, passed away, and Kaite and I always knew that if we had a son, he would have my father's name as his middle one. But the first one? This is only my second blog entry, but you will probably come to learn that I am prone to hyperbole, but believe me when I say that Kaite and I quite literally went through a list of six thousand boy names without agreeing on a single one. 

Literally six thousand. 

We found an actual list of six thousand boy names without agreeing on a single one before we landed on Donovan. She liked names like Grant, Mason, and Jackson. I liked Eddard, Eddington, and Edison. So from now on I guess we have to only have daughters because there are no more boy names we both like. Also it's a really good thing I'm not a single dad, because in retrospect I'm a lot worse at names than I realized when we were having that conversation.

Anyway, we actually met his pediatrician last night. We've been attending a seven-week childbirthing course over at the hospital, and last night was the penultimate session to the instructor brought him in to talk for a bit and answer any questions we might have. I like him at lot because he reminds me of Toby from The Office and because he's a little awkward like me. (Plus, he seems intelligent and capable of giving my son good medical care, which I guess is also important.) His first name is Pete, so naturally I spent the entire Q&A session trying to force myself not to ask him whether he ever considers himself a Pete-iatrician. Of course he deals with dads all day, so he's probably heard that one before.

So next week is the final meeting of that class, but we've got something even more exciting than that coming up this weekend: the baby shower! Now, I've always loved baby showers, ever since I attended my first and only one last year, and I knew I wanted this one to be Jack and Jill style so I could attend. It's all very secretive as these things are wont to be, so I don't know a whole lot about it, but I can't wait! My family is coming up – my mother all the way from Oklahoma – and I imagine I'll be talking a lot about it in next week's entry.

(I actually dreamed about it the other night. In my dream it was a costume baby shower and everyone was dressed for Halloween, except my brother who showed up late and in his street clothes. So if you're reading this, Alex, I'm very disappointed in your dream self.)

For now, let me leave you with my dad joke of the week. Last week I told my favorite joke of all time, so this week I'd like to tell my father's favorite joke of all time. 

Q: What did Humphrey Bogart's rabbit say to Ingrid Bergman's goat?

A: Hare's looking at you, kid!

Ah, that one really takes me back to when I was like four and he told it to me and I didn't get it at all because I hadn't seen Casablanca and also because I was only like four.

See you next week!