So we've entered the age of the imaginary friend, but my weirdo son, as usual, has to go against the grain. Most kids make up friends with whom they can spend time, play, or chat; Sam's pal, "Jason," lives somewhere "in town," and he never comes to visit. Sam has lots of wild tales about the things Jason has done and is doing, but Jason's high life apparently doesn't include time to come and play. He has tow trucks to drive, you understand, trains to ride, and bikes to fix. Jason is only a little older than Sam, I think; when Sam spies pictures of blonde little boys of about six years of age, usually doing something exciting, he announces, "That's my friend, Jason."

To my knowledge, he's never met anybody named "Jason" in his life. I don't even know where he heard the name.

The "Jason" fascination started a month or so ago, when he suddenly announced that if Beta was a boy, we should name him Jason. We laughed and said that we'd take it into consideration, though in truth, the name has never been a contender on our list. I have a cousin named Jason, and while it's a perfectly fine name, it's not really my style. Sam's been insistent, though. He loves the name. Mom asked him, "But what if it's a girl?" and he responded, very slowly, "But...what about Jason?"

Now Jason has apparently manifested outside of my uterus. He asks for stories about Jason every night at bedtime, and I do my best to come up with new adventures for that kid. I've taught Jason how to use the potty, given him a baby sister, taken him to the beach, and had him riding and roping horses on a farm. He's theoretically good for morality plays, but so far Sam's not really interested in mimicking his friend; he wants Jason to have all the excitement, and the work that accompanies it, I suppose.

I personally had a plethora of imaginary friends as a child. In another period of history, I would probably have been sent away to some sort of institution, actually; my "gang" was a combination of the cartoon and the theological. I'd dish out portions of playdough for myself, Daffy Duck, Bugs Bunny, and Jesus, and we'd all have a grand old time making snakes and ash trays. (Jesus could make a mean playdough birthday cake, if I recall correctly.) I had no other children living anywhere near me, so I compensated in this way for probably way longer than is usual for preschoolers.

Sam has exposure to other kids, but I wonder if having Jason around (or not) is instead a way for him to deal with things he can't do or places he can't be. It seems very sad to me that Sam's real-life best friend lives so far away from him, and now even his imaginary friend isn't here to play with him. I'm probably inserting my own feelings there, though; Sam doesn't seem depressed to be left behind in Jason's life. I suppose that, in a way, Jason's a sort of celebrity to him, though perhaps one who occasionally sends letters to Sam, the president of his fan club.

For the record, Jason is spending today in town, at a restaurant.

Last night was our home visit, and it went pretty well. Slight "whoops" moment when I realized that we hadn't posted the list of emergency phone numbers by the phone, as we were supposed to have done, but other than that, we were okay. I'm thinking that what I'll probably do, rather than stick all my birth supplies in a corner of the dining room, is put most of them there along with a list on the wall of what else is needed and where it is. I mean, I'm still using the heating pad, for heaven's sake; I don't want to have to worry about putting it back there after every use. The cookie sheet, which Andrea says is for carting around supplies if I labor in different rooms (not bloody likely!), can stay under the stove until we actually need it, or else Sam will be "making cookies" all day long.

I'm also fairly certain that I threw money down the drain for the shower curtains to be put under the sheet in bed. I can't imagine I'll want to labor there at all. Oh, well; if I don't open them, they'll store easily for the eventuality that I might one day have a shower again.

Sam was a nutball during the whole visit, which makes me nervous. He was absolutely insane with excitement that Andrea was there to "visit," and we finally had to put "Bob the Builder" on the television to get him to zone out a bit and calm down. I hope to heaven that he doesn't act this way when I'm in labor. I'm actually a little panicked about this; I haven't gotten close enough to anybody up here to have a local support person for Sam who I'd be comfortable having at the birth. Most of the women in the moms' group would probably be hovering in a corner, fingers poised over the autodial button for 911 on their cell phones. I did have one woman offer to have Sam come over to her house if he starts getting upset, so at least we have that option available. Ideally, we'll have enough advance warning to get Alysia or my mom up here to help Sam. Ideally, anyway.

Don't get me wrong. I think Sam will actually do very well with the birth in general. We've talked about it extensively, looked at pictures and movies, read books, practiced making "birth noises" together, and discussed the placenta and the fact that the water in the pool will turn red. He's as prepared as he could get, and he's very interested in and calm about the idea. He even helps me through the "practice squeezes" whenever he can, holding my hands and sometimes breathing with me. I don't think birth will frighten him; the question is whether he'll be tremendously excited by the company in the house.

We might have an unexpected solution, though; our back-up midwife's back-up (how do you like that turnabout?) has a two-year-old that she often brings with her, so if our back-up can't make it that night, Sam might have somebody to keep him occupied. That midwife usually brings one of her older kids to watch her little one, too. It's a long shot, but still a possibility. Of course, too, I could go very quickly in the night and we might not have to worry about Sam at all. Eric's predicting a three-hour labor. We'll see.

Oh, by the way: Andrea checked me again, and although she told me last time that second babies don't need to drop at all before labor, Beta has now apparently done just that. The time, she is approaching...

(And, by the way, with that time heading into the "now zone," you might want to sign up for the notify list. I'll probably try to give updates via the weblog, as well, but I can almost guarantee that I'll be able to at least get Eric to post a word or two to the list when things go into action.)

Still wondering about how to plan my fall. If I could have affected the time of this just the teensiest bit, I'd have shifted my due date either ahead or back by two or three weeks, just to get it away from Halloween. Darn it, I want to know whether I'll be pregnant for that! I want to know whether I'll be able to go trick or treating with Sam, Sam and a slung newborn, or not at all; I'd like to know whether we'll be able to go to the moms' group Halloween party, and whether or not I'll be able to paint my belly for the occasion. I'd like to know whether we should go to the pumpkin patch now, now, now, or whether we can wait until it's a little closer to Halloween so we can make jack o'lanterns and not have them rot before the end of October.

I saw "Baby's First Thanksgiving" outfits today at the Carter's outlet. Okay, so I can at least count on those as being appropriate for this baby. Not that I bought one; we'll be doing Thanksgiving as just the four of us this year, and I couldn't see spending the money on a one-shot outfit without having grandparents there to take rolls and rolls of film to capture the cuteness. Still, it might make up for the fact that I don't know whether an absolutely adorable "Baby's First Halloween" bunting is going to work or not.