Ruth’s SOLS: It’s a . . .

My little brother called me.  (I use the adjective “little” loosely here since he is nearly a foot taller than me.  The proper adjective would be “younger,” but “little” is used due to the fact that it is fun to taunt him.)  I could feel his grin through the phone.  He had news and it was big.

Earlier he had been to the doctor, with his wife, for their very first ultrasound.  He was giddy for weeks with anticipation.  Now I could hear the excitement in his voice.  The phone connection was so clear that I felt he was beside me.

“So what are you having?”  I asked, knowing their plans to learn the gender.

“A healthy baby!” he exclaimed.

“Com’on Jeff!”  I whined, “Girl or boy?”

He continued, the smile in his voice tickling my ears, “I saw ten perfect toes and ten fingers.”

“Jeff.”

I could feel his smile getting bigger.  Was it because he was teasing me?  Or because he is a proud daddy?

“And you should see the cheeks.  They’re huge!  Just like mine when I was a baby.”

“Jeff.”

“I could see everything and the little heart was going pitter-patter- pitter-patter.”

I rolled my eyes.  I think he could sense it.  “Jeff,” I said for a third time.”

“What Ruthie?” his voice full of innocence.

“Seriously.  Girl. Or. Boy?”

“It’s a giiiiiiiirrrrrllllll!” he burst.  I could feel the pride.  “I’m so excited!  I really wanted a little girl.”

“Congratulations,” may have been lost in his bubble of excitement.

Imagine.  My little brother having a daughter.  She’ll be one lucky little girl.