When the elated Mother-to-Be, Father-to-Be, and Grammy-to-Be let go from their embrace, they thought, almost simultaneously, Uncle-to-Be must be called. Uncle-to-Be as in Brother-of-the-Bride. Eloquent Toastmaster of rehearsed extemporaneous-ness.
We three were disappointed but not deterred. “Send him the picture,” I suggested. Father-to-Be switched his iPhone to camera
application and focused in on the monochromatic photo on the table. The photo that
had been the message in the baby bottle. If you stared at the picture long
enough, it looked like Casper the Ghost, cradled in an infant rocker.
Uncle-to-Be was one hundred miles away. What better opportunity to initiate a Face Time call? We’d get to hear and see his reaction, in iPhone video motion. I expected a single raised eyebrow – reminiscient of his Dad’s -- would punctuate his facial expression. A complement to well chosen words of congratulations.
We sent the Face-Time request, iPhone to iPhone. But BOTB was at work at a fitness center. Face-to-face group talk? Out of the question. BOTB could not talk at all. He could only text a quick reply, a clandestine sweep of thumbs over keyboard, between one fitness-center-chore and another:
can’t talk now.
|David Kilper/WUSTL Photo|
Father-to-Be added a text to the photogram, “Hi Uncle,” and tapped Send.
The message took off with a swoosh. Within seconds the tri-tone of an incoming text bubbled. And Uncle-to-Be’s response lay before us.
A response to which I immediately thought It'll be a very l o n g time before the baby gets to hear that!