The devil, you say...
In the UK, some expectant mothers whose babies are due on June 6 are so concerned about giving birth on the date marked by the satanic number that they have scheduled caesareans and inductions beforehand. Can’t imagine what their docs must think of that.

Indeed, it is just seven days until our own little Omen’s 24th birthday. (ooo....2+4=6) Yes, she was born on June 6, 1982. (ooo...8-2=6) Luckily, not at 6:00am. And her real mother is not a dog. (Well, not most of the time) What prospective parents would want to deprive their children of a life-long useful conversation starter?

Maybe we’ll have to get her the DVD of the original Omen. (I’m not so sure the remake will measure up.) Then someday she’ll be able to pass along the family legends. Such as why we refer to obnoxious church screamers (including those in our own family) as “Omens.” And why more than few disputes have been settled with the accusation (untrue, so untrue), “You’re real mother’s a dog.” This could explain why I don’t climb on balconies to dust, refuse to allow just any old nanny in to tend my little ones and insist on a proper introduction before we allow strange dogs to move in.

The prophecy is clear. The signs are unmistakable. On the 6th day of the 6th month in the year 2006....we’ll be eating cake!