I peered out the window, hoping for some clue as to the temperature, so I'd know what kind of jacket to put on Penny.

The view didn't tell me a thing. No frost on the cars, no rain, nothing. It could have been sixty, or it could have been twenty.

"I'm going to buy a thermometer and stick it on our porch," I told Matt. "And then, the journey to parenthood will be complete. That's sort of like the journey to the Dark Side. But, y'know, without all the cool lightning and power."

"And with wrinkles and grey hair," Matt added helpfully.

"And talking about bodily functions, yep. So, you know. Completely unlike the journey to the Dark Side."

"I dunno," Matt said. "I could totally greet Penny's prom date in a long black robe... 'You want this... don't you?'"

Matt's mom called last night to let us know that Matt's brother is in the hospital.

He had some sort of allergic reaction to something, and his doctor gave him a steroid shot, and then it either got worse, or he had an allergic reaction to the steroid shot, too, because his face swelled up.

So his wife took him to the ER, and they admitted him and put him on Benadryl, and Jill said he sounded fine when she talked to him, just kind of tired, and that he was hoping to go home today.

Just so you know - I'm the primary worrier in the family. Except for when it's Matt. He spent some time on Google Maps figuring out where his brother's hospital was and how he would get there in case he was needed.

"I guess if I wake up in the middle of the night and you're gone," I said, "I'll know where you went."

"I'd leave a note," he retorted.

When I went to bed, he said, "I was kidding. I'm not going to drive out there tonight."

"I know."

"I'll book a flight in the morning."

(In case you're wondering, that was a joke, too. Unless it wasn't.)

--Liz