Marissa and I toured the Women's Hospital at Centennial Medical Center yesterday evening. We got to see the labor and delivery rooms, which are very nice and talked about all the procedures and exactly where I should come into the hospital with my wife and at exactly what point I should start yelling and screaming and causing a ruckus. It turns out there actually is no appropriate point for the ruckus raising. Huh...weird.
Anyway, at one point they showed us a nursery and through the glass we could see them working on getting what was obviously a newborn cleaned up. The dad was standing inside next to the nurse watching her work on the baby. The rest of the family was on the other side of the glass with us and the tour guide asked what time he had been born. One of the relatives said "5:58." I looked at my cell phone and it was 6:12. Fourteen minutes old.
That had me thinking curious thoughts for the next little while. Fourteen minutes. He's been breathing for 14 minutes. I had been breathing for approximately 19,766,000 minutes at that point. Yes, I know it sounds strange, but that's the kind of stuff that runs through my head all the time. Welcome to your small peek into Hatch's head for the day. Drop something in the tip jar on your way out.