...infatuated...

Okay, I'm not screaming like a 12 year old girl at a rock concert, or writing someone's name on my notebook hundreds of times, but I believe I'm somewhat infatuated. Infatuated with what you ask? With my grandkids, what else?

Recently my wife and I were invited to see our son and daughter-in-law's sonogram session where they could potentially discover the gender of their baby-on-the-way. Yes, we want all the benefits of what technology can give us, so yes, we were there.

A casual observer would have detected the first signs of infatuation when we arrived an hour and 15 minutes before the suggested time of arrival. I'm still not sure how that happened but it must have something to do with crossing a time zone at the speed of sound.

Since I didn't bring our pup tent for camping out during the extended wait, we decided to kill time in the avant garde shops in downtown Springfield, IL. That took about 13 minutes and back we went to the waiting room.

Our daughter-in-law came in from work, her parents arrived as well. They all looked well adjujsted and happy without any signs of infatuation. I on the other hand... Well I arrived with my backpack full of camera equipment and my monopod. The monopod was a gift at this past Christmas so I think I can be excused for having the monopod. After all, I wanted to use my new toy, and standing for 20 minutes videotaping the sonogram seemed like a good time to have a monopod to keep the camera steady and my arm rested. I still say that was such a good idea.

Maybe it was a little over the top to have a digital camera, and a video camera that takes digital movies and still shots, the battery chargers and all the cords to hook the cameras up to a computer or TV, along with extra memory sticks, videocassettes, batteries, etc. I was prepared to capture a glimpse of the new little prince or princess.

In my defense, it's easier to just have all that stuff in the backpack so that when I think I might take a picture I just grab my backpack and I have everything I need to film just about anything except maybe a full length Hollywood movie.

Yes, they laughed at me in the waiting room. I don't care. Then I got into the sonogram room and the technician told me that taking pictures was prohibited. Why don't they tell you these things ahead of time? Then the technician proceeded to take a dozen or more pictures of my little grand-child-on-the-way. Some of the pictures were taken from very unflattering angles.

Imagine that you come home from work, take off all your clothes, sit down on a glass coffee table, spread your legs and then someone takes a picture of your private parts from underneath the coffee table. Granted I don't know why you would come home and do that, and I don't know why someone would take a picture like that. Unless you were a sonogram technician in a room with six hyper adults who were dying to find out if the new baby was a boy or a girl. We have a brand new baby..................................!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I don't want to say on this blog yet. I'm waiting to see if a certain son writes a new post for his blog "Introspection."

But I have pictures of the technician's pictures.