Lunch was just coming out to our table at Porches last Tuesday when my phone rang. It was THE CALL.

“On our way,” I told Son No. 1, then hung up. My companions figured out quick it was baby-birthing time, but there were others who needed to know, too. That’s when I committed the ultimate social faux pas. At least that’s what Son No. 2 said when he mocked the whole scene for the family days later.

OK, I sent a text by voice dictation at the table. Around people I had just met 20 minutes before. So shun me.

(Have I mentioned how much I like the voice dictation feature on my phone? Only problem is the typos, like the time I said “He thinks he needs a color copy” and it sent “He so needs a colonoscopy”. But that’s material for another column.)

Next came a mad dash to North Mississippi where we took charge of our two-year-old granddarling, the big-sis-to-be who had a t-shirt to prove it. She wore it well, and people in the elevator noticed.

“Big sis, huh?” one gentleman said, bending down a bit. “Ain’t she cute?” His wife wasn’t so enthusiastic.

“If she’s the big sister, her whole life is about to turn upside down,” was all she had to offer.

As if anybody asked her.

Thankfully Grandguy arrived safely on the scene, grand in every way, including full-figuredness (almost 10 pounds). The next day Granddarling was serving me a plastic bell pepper from her miniature kitchen when I looked through her bedroom window and saw the Forerunner pull in the driveway.

They were home from the hospital. The baby was here. The moment of truth.

My son did exactly what he should do (didn’t even stop to look at the mail) and came straight to Granddarling’s room and bent down to her level with the bundle of joy. Grandguy was wrapped up tight, but there was enough of him showing for the big sister to see. She dropped her toy Starbucks mug (it came with the kitchen), let out the sweetest exclamation I’ve ever heard and ran toward him with her arms open wide. And I didn’t have a single camera within reach.

How many moments like that do you get to witness in a lifetime?

Sure, sibling love can come and go as fast as a postpartum mood swing, but that the lady in the elevator did have one thing right. Granddarling’s whole life had changed – and even a two-year-old knew it was for the better.

So I told my daughter-in-law about what happened and she smiled. That’s probably when I should have offered sage advice about trying to nap when they do (who knows, it could happen), but we both understood what her life will be for the foreseeable future – Feed children. Change children. Repeat.

And when I got back home, far away from plastic peppers and toy Starbucks mugs, I shot her a text (probably by voice dictation): “Pray for you?”

“Please. Pray that I will keep my spirits up,” was the response. It was sort of Solomon-ish, in that she didn’t ask for a clean house (clean-ish will do) or that Grandguy might be tops in all his percentiles (what is a percentile anyway? Just say percent already).

“Just pray that I will keep my spirits up.”

I liked that, so I do. A lot.

Welcome to the world, little Levi. Welcome to the world.

Wesson resident Kim Henderson is a freelance writer who writes for The Daily Leader. Contact her at kimhenderson319@gmail.com.