Monday, March 1, 2010

Letter to the Baby

Dear Baby:

I know you already have your bags packed and you're just waiting for the stork to pick you up, but I figured it would be nice to write you a letter. This can be taken as a letter of caution or a letter of recommendation. Lately you've been causing a lot of commotion with your kicking and stretching. Stop teasing us. Either you come out or you don't. So quit. Also, over the past 9 months you've probably heard your mom cry. Get used to it. She's a cry baby. She cries when she's out of Pop Tarts. She cries when she's out of chocolate milk. She cries when she knows she's going to be out of milk. But she cries because she cares so much; because her heart is so big. She's going to cry when you hold her finger for the first time, she's going to cry when you smile at her for the first time, she's going to cry when I accidentally drop you for the first time. So word of advice, use her emotions to your advantage. If you do, the world is your oyster.

We don't know if you're going to be a boy or a girl; frankly, we don't care. But everyone else does. So whatever you are, all I ask is for you to do these things: be a diehard Cowboys fan. So that means no crying, diaper changing, or being hungry during the Cowboys game. Either you sleep or be quiet during the Cowboys game. And respect your elders. And no skinny jeans if you're a boy. I don't care how cool it is. And no shaggy hair. And you can read Twilight but don't cry when I make fun of you. Vampires are dumb; kids wearing skinny jeans with shaggy hair reading Twilight are dumber. If you want to watch a Vampire movie, watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

We also expect you to read. I don't care if you read every single word you see and annoy the crap out of me, as long as you're reading, I will be happy. Eventually my eyesight is going to go bad and I will need you to read the Caller ID on my phone so I know who's calling. So love to read.

Don't be a picky eater. Your mom is a picky eater. I don't need two picky eaters in the household. But know what you want to eat. Your mother and I are ridiculously indecisive, your input would be much appreciated. Just don't ask for breakfast for dinner or Chuck E Cheese. If you want to run around in germs and eat crappy food, I will take you to Wal-Mart during free sample days.

And always know, no matter what, your mom and I will love you. Even if you do cry during the Cowboys game, there's always DVR. Even if you do like Chuck E Cheese, there's always Purell. Even if you do read Twilight in skinny jeans. There's always a fist to the face.

So there... there were two of us in the wolf pack... I was alone first in the pack, and then your mom joined in later. And nine months ago, when your moter introduced me to you, I thought, "Wait a second, could it be?" And now I know for sure, I just added one more person to my wolf pack. Three of us wolves, running around the desert together, in Las Vegas, looking for strippers and cocaine. So tonight, I make a toast!

One day, you'll be old enough to appreciate that last part.

We're excited to finally meet you.

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