I miss your old man. He's in Ohio presenting a paper at a hip-hop conference. (Yes. Your dad. That white guy who sired you. I know.) I was in California visiting family last week, so we only caught each other on Monday night and Tuesday morning before he had to head out of town for the conference. It's lonely here without him!
Your dad had a bad car accident while I was gone. So bad that he should have broken at least a few bones, or required stitches. The car, which rolled three times across several lanes of traffic, was beyond totaled. I struggled to keep my composure when I saw the crumpled ball of metal that used to be our '07 Cobalt. By some great miracle, your dad walked away with a few bumps and bruises and a mild chemical burn from the air bag. That's it.
We are fortunate, you and me. We'd be in big trouble if he just disappeared. He's my best friend. And as much as I hate having him gone, it's given me some time to contemplate how important he is to me. He makes me laugh. He makes me feel beautiful. He makes me feel safe and comfortable. I know I'd be okay on my own, but I'm infinitely better with him in my life.
He loves you a lot. He likes to feel you karate chop my belly in the still hours of morning (when my bladder's nice and full, of course). Your dad talks to you, calls you by your name (yes, you have a name), and fantasizes with me about the things we want to teach you and show you when you finish cooking. He tells you over and over how much he loves you and how much he loves me. Aren't we lucky?
We're excited to meet you, baby boy. Don't come just yet. We still have some nesting and emotional preparation to take care of before you come. And go easy on me with the jiu jitsu.