Earlier today we were at the hospital for checkups and vaccinations when someone came over the clinic-wide P.A. system and said, “Code Lindbergh, elevator twelve, Code Lindbergh, elevator twelve.” I was coming back from the bathroom at the time, and just as I was reaching the spot where Steph had chosen to sit and nurse Caleb, a woman in the hallway told me to stop walking around and take a seat. There was no “please” in her voice.
I asked what was going on and she said, “potential infant abduction.” I should’ve known from the code name. And here we were with a fussing infant in our arms, and he was hidden under a nursing cover. Suspicious!
I had a worrisome thought, leaned over to Steph and whispered, “How do we prove he’s ours?”
“We’re not going to start trying to anticipate this stuff, Josh.” She was a little preoccupied anyhow.
It took about five minutes for the all-clear to come through, which apparently made this Code Lindbergh “a pretty long one.” At least nobody asked me for a DNA sample.