Olivia’s water broke at the beach. She was sitting on a lawn chair, watching the sea roll in. She was taking in the sea air and listening to the birds call out their enjoyment of the water. Then it happened.
Hubby Stan was out enjoying the water. He loved romping in the water and that was exactly what he was doing. He was a bit of the way off when he looked up at his very pregnant wife. She had stood up and was waving. She was waving as if her life depended on it.
It was time and he knew it. The kid was coming and he had better get going. He put his pedal to the metal. In no time flat (whatever that means), he was on the beach. He reached Olivia and she was laughing, “I’m going to have a baby. I’m going to have a baby.”
Stan grabbed Olivia’s hand. “Are you okay?”
“Course I’m okay. I’m going to have a baby.”
An older woman approached Stan. “What’s going on?” the woman asked.
“I’m going to be a dad,” Stan said, exhilaration in his voice.
He picked up the lawn chair and the bag beside and walked his wife to the car.
The woman followed him, calling out, “He’s going to be a dad.”
By the time the couple reached the car, a crowd had gathered around them. They were applauding. A police car pulled up beside them. The cop rolled down his window.
“Follow me. I’ll give you an escort. What hospital are you going to?”
Stan told the officer. The officer turned on his light and pulled out in front of Stan’s car.
Stan started his engine, put the car in drive and followed. The cop drove fast and so did Stan. When they arrived at the emergency room entrance, Olivia was going into labor and she was going into labor fast.
A man in a white lab coat came out, opened the passenger door and lifted Olivia out.
“I’m going to be a dad,” Stan said to the man.
The police officer pulled up beside Stan’s car. “Everything okay?”
“Absolutely. We got here in time. Come by later and I’ll give you a cigar.”
Hours later, in the comfort of a hospital bed, the baby was born. He came out screaming, letting the world know in no uncertain terms that he was here.
Later Stan took the baby in his arms and looked over at the wife he loved. “What are we going to call him?”
“Remember our first night after our honeymoon?”
“Remember how much we laughed till we almost popped?” she continued to ask.
So he was not named Stan Jr. And he wasn’t named after the grandfathers George and Mac or their fathers, Jason and Morgan.
“Let’s call him Laurel ‘N’ Hardy.”