A week to go?

Guest post by hubby Steve.

So I've begun to get sentimental about my boys.

How can I not? Three boys in three years, a veritable army, an infantry of powerful little muscles and mops of messy hair wreaking chaos wherever their boots land--what father could feel otherwise?

Three years ago the family tree was beginning to wilt. Don Sivyer had seven children of whom three were men. Those men (Don Jr, John, and Dan) produced a son each (Geoff, Steve, and Sean). Three years ago the grandsons had produced nothing.

Then we had a male explosion, a bratwurst festival unleashed upon the world. Geoff had Jude and Isaiah, and Steve had Gabe and Ezra, with Titus on the way. The Sivyer tree started looking pretty strong again.

So here I sit three years hence, waiting on Titus, exhausted from doing all the housework that pregnant wifey cannot--nay, will not--do, exhausted from the demands of a job that apparently Gabe isn't all that impressed by (when I bragged about working hard to feed the family, Gabe said: "But a lot of daddies do that."), and I think of my boys. I think of moments like this:

Or this:

Beautiful children. Titus, come on down!