Baby’s Arrival Takes Time but It Is Worth the Wait

Sunday morning: The baby refuses to come out. Obviously, it knows who his/her father is.

There is also some speculation it is holding out for a Dodger victory and the daughter doesn’t seem pleased at the prospect of the kid spending another year inside her tummy.

The doctor has asked Mr. and Mrs. Grocery Store Bagger to come to the hospital. I guess the doctor believes in miracles and thinks the Dodgers are going to win. I don’t have the heart to tell the daughter that Odalis Perez is pitching.

The wife goes to the hospital too. She wants to be a grandmother. She’s certainly old enough.

The Bagger is walking around in a daze and wearing a T-shirt that reads: Brayden or Mackenzie? Now that I think about it, I have no idea what the Bagger’s first name is. But I presume he’s referring to the baby -- boy or girl -- and not asking for help about his own name.

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Sunday afternoon: The kid remains stubborn. There’s talk of using drugs. I recall ordering a stiff drink the first time I met the Bagger.

I knew this was going to happen when that guy married the daughter. Mrs. Bagger looked just like Jessica Simpson but now the daughter looks as if she has snorted helium. It is July 10, Jessica’s birthday, and the daughter sees this as an omen. A few years back, the wife gave her a Ralphs card. I believe in omens.

No one knows if it will be a boy or a girl. I’m kind of hoping it’s a boy so he can introduce some of his friends later to Miss Radio Personality and maybe get her a date. One of my favorite movies is “Harold and Maude,” so who knows?

The Dodgers lose and Perez cries like a baby. I don’t have the heart to tell the daughter a Dodger victory and her delivery could come down to the moves Paul DePodesta makes. Her belly begins to tighten; I have the same reaction every time someone mentions DePodesta’s name.

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Sunday evening: Whatever happened to the way we were?

To be honest, I’m not exactly sold on this whole grandchild stage of life. For one thing, I never thought I’d get as old as Dwyre.

And that’s my baby having a baby. There is a memorable scene near the end of “A River Runs Through It.” The two main characters have grown up, although it hasn’t always been a good journey.

The movie stops. It flashes back to a time when the characters were kids, frolicking and fishing together under dad’s watchful eye. The perfect family setting. Freeze it. If only you could freeze it

And now this. The wife gives me a book. She has never been quite the same since Dr. Phil went on the air.

It’s something by Billy Crystal: “I Already Know I Love You.” I figure it’s Crystal telling family jokes, and I’m all for that, but instead he’s writing mush to his own grandchild yet to be born: “I want to show you lying is never as good as true.” I write a note in the margin for my grandchild: “ ... Unless you’re playing poker with your dad -- then bluff like crazy, lie with a straight face and raise him, kid, because he’ll run for the hills.”

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Monday morning: It’s 7-11. An omen. I won’t buy a house unless there is a 7-Eleven nearby. I love the coffee. It’s also Giorgio Armani’s birthday, a good soccer player, I think, the Bagger says.

The wife and the Bagger have been by the daughter’s side all night. Miss Radio Personality insisted on getting her beauty sleep -- as if Harold would care.

I’m waiting for the cue to demonstrate that father knows best.

Each Christmas, I give an odd gift to the kids. It’s just something fathers do. One year I bought one of those bass fish mounted on a frame, and when you press the red button, the head of the fish moves and begins singing “Old Man River.”

When the daughter went to college, I found the fish under my pillow. I waited a year, said nothing, and sent it off to college disguised as an athletic award from San Diego State. She said nothing about it for the next four years.

At her wedding reception, I sat down for dinner, the waiter uncovered my plate and I found the fish with a note attached: “I won.”

Well, when the kid arrives later today, and the nurse takes it, cleans it up, and returns cradling a soft blanket in her arms -- instead of the baby, the daughter will be getting the fish. At first she’ll probably think it’s the baby -- a chip off the old Bagger’s block.

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Monday afternoon: Oscar De La Hoya calls, and suggests Mr. and Mrs. Bagger name their child Oscar. I don’t know why he insists on taking on fights he can’t win.

The Bagger is right there every minute for the daughter. Maybe some day I’ll let him know that. Grandma is beaming with anticipation and Miss Radio Personality is walking the halls checking out the doctors.

Finally. It’s 12:45 and the family increases by one with the birth of Mackenzie Nicole. The Bagger comes to the waiting room and announces, “It’s a girl, a 9-pound, 14-ounce girl with feet the size of Shaq.” He has such a way with words.

Vin Scully has a way with words too, and like our daughter, Kelly, he also has a daughter named Kelly, who also gave birth Monday -- a little more than three hours after the arrival of Mackenzie.

“We had a boy, Ryan, 8 pounds 3 ounces and everyone is doing fine,” said Scully, who has 14 grandchildren. “And he’s got a date as soon as I get the chance to talk to Ryan and get him together with Mackenzie.”

This time he pays for the chair covers.

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Monday around 2:40: The fish has been delivered to the daughter and the Bagger has promised to do his best and never let the kid listen to Lee Hamilton.

The Bagger says now it’s time for “G.P.” to hold the baby.

That would be me -- Grand Pa -- and at this moment the luckiest man alive, holding the prettiest grandchild the world has ever seen.

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T.J. Simers can be reached at

t.j.simers@latimes.com. To read previous columns by Simers, go to latimes.com/simers.