Our second child was due, but we thought we'd have a few more days. The child had already been nicknamed "Thumper" for a habit of kicking inside the womb.
When I pulled up at the house after 10 that night, a note from my wife Neysa said she'd gone to the hospital and our oldest son, Vance, then just over two, was at our friends the Negleys.
I sped down the street to check on him, before going to the hospital, and there, sitting around the table with smiles, were both my wife and our friends, enjoying the joke.
But the next day, our second son was born, given the name Travis Austin, the first for a cousin-in-law and the next because, because.
When we brought him home a couple of days later, his brother burst into tears. By Thanksgiving, as we sat down to dinner around a round oak table, with him in a baby seat on another table, he loudly fussed away, until we put him on the main dinner table, meeting his demands to be included. My mother's sister and my favorite Aunt, Sissie, humorously nicknamed him "Lake Travis," for his active bowels.His nephews and nieces call him "Uncle Ta-Ta."
Tomorrow, he'll be 44 years old. It's an always interesting journey.
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