This is supposed to explain where I've been

This may end up being the most important thing that I'll ever write in my life.

It all started with pee.

Urine has been a very important liquid in my life. I don't think there are has been a day in the last 27 years of my life that hasn't been – at least in some small way – effected by number one.

I've had to think long and hard about if winning a game was worth getting whizzed on.

As a janitor, I've cleaned pee off floors, walls and one time a ceiling.

I've used human lemonade as a weapon.

I've seen more bottles of pee along the side of the road then I have McDonalds bags and animal corpses.

I've taken a bottle of wee-wee that was stored, without permission, in my fridge and a milk jug of Kool-Ade to commit possibly the world's greatest act of psychological revenge ever.

And that's not even counting all the amazing adventures in my life that I've had and random, magic toilets I've found simply because they happened while I was on my way too drain the lizard.

Despite my otherwise robust and in depth pee-related resume, there are two things I've never done with the stuff. Knowingly drink it, and use it to tell the future.

The former is a trick known only to Kevin Costner in Waterworld and “Slow Bobby” Templeton in my fourth grade class, but the later is one that my wife recently preformed.

It was amazing though. Through some sort of mystical alchemy that could serve as a metaphor for our marriage, ancient Chinese wisdom and modern American technology combined with a normal bodily function to allow us to peer into the otherwise unknowable and let us know exactly what we would be doing in one year's time.

I was so nervous, I had to go. But it wasn't my time. This once, I had to stand back and let the love of my life take the spot light, and the seat of honor.

And unlike me, my wife wasn't peeing for her own selfish pleasure or for distance. My wife was peeing for a nobler cause. She was peeing for truth.

I gave her space to work. I've used more than enough men's rooms at stadiums to know that the only thing that can make it harder to produce than having someone standing watch over you is having someone standing watch over you offering tips. So I paced the hall.

I figured I'd need practice at it. Hall pacing is a time honor tradition for men in my position. Fortunately our hall is pretty short. I think its good to train a bit before moving to the big leagues.

Once the deed had been done, it was all over but the waiting. I was called in for this part. We stood there together, holding hands as our future unfolded before our eyes.

I was the most romantic thing we'd ever done in that room.

And there on the counter, too quick for anyone to really savor the moment, the second blue line appeared, bringing with it the amazing news.

She was pregnant.

We're going to have a baby.

Geek on.

Steve Shinney is super excited to welcome a new gnome into the world. He is losing sleep of many perfectly normal fatherly concerns such as “what if I'm a bad dad?” or “what if I drop the kid?” or perhaps the most frightening of all “what if my daughter wants to be a cheerleader.” Congratulations along with unoriginal parenting tips can be left before.