My Child Comma

My Child,

These letters have had a tendency to be introspective confessionals for me. I'm sorry for that. I mean, who wants to read that stuff? But, to be honest, I don't know what else to say. I mean, you live inside my wife. How am I supposed to carry on a conversation with you.

You look like a lizard.

Lizards are good for confession.

I had a dream recently and it was kind of about you. I don't often remember my dreams, and when I do they are usually the opposite of profound and involve being interrogated by Captain Crunch.

Anyway, your mother and I have been discussing whether I should be in the room when you're delivered. Honestly, I've been hesitant. To me the whole process seems like a macabre hybrid of deer gutting and baby shower. Just a little bit too weird for your old man. I'm not sure I'll be of much use.

So, I had this dream. In the dream, Keelie went into labor and called me. I was at work, and I told her I'd meet her at the hospital. I knew it would take a while for you to squirt out so I took my time getting there - stopped for coffee.

When I walked into the delivery room you had already arrived.

I awoke with such an intense feeling of disappointment. So, I guess what I'm saying is, I want to be there when you arrive. But, if you don't mind, I'd still like to stop for coffee.

Thanks, Lizard.