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IN THE CONTINUING SAGA of the soon-to-be grandmother and the little mite of a grandson struggling to make his way across the bridge, I have no more news to report as the day inches on toward noon. In this era of the story (which seems to have lasted for eons) the nervously expectant grandmother continues to carry two phones with her wherever she goes and call the soon-to-be grandfather every half-hour to agonize over the long-drawn-out un-knowingness.
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Until, a few more eons later, when the afternoon sun is slanting across the leaf-covered lawn and she's decided it was all just a dream--this astonishing idea that she's going to be a grandma--she gets a call.

(Ah, Dear Reader...I'll have to conclude this later...my heart is beating fast and I'm in a rush. Forgive my hasty departure--a VIP has summoned me!)
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