There's nothing, punkin, to tell you. My brain's racing at a million miles an hour trying to figure out what we've left behind, what we haven't accomplished yet, in these final days leading up to your birth, but mostly I'm just hanging by my toes waiting for you to get here.
But more than that.
Whilst I'm incredibly excited that you're on your way, I'm also aware that your arrival is going to change our lives forever, and so I'm trying to revel in the small things that will be changed by your arrival. Nights on the couch watching DVDs will be different, I think, mostly only because of the difference in movies.
Walking the dogs at the park will be the same, except I can't wait to take you with us. Playing music on a Sunday and spending four hours making dinner will probably be different, I'm not sure what you're going to like to eat (I was reading a baby cookbook last night, and the list of ingredients was very short.). I'm sure you'll like being with our friends, HarryandLiz and JasonandRenee and IanandZannah, and I'm positive that you'll enjoy playing with other babies that we know, some of whom will actually arrive just after you do, among them JulieandJohn's baby and MarieandNigel's baby.
It's ANZAC day this weekend, and coincidentally is also your Uncle David's birthday. There's going to be a barbecue at your grandfather's house, but I'm not sure at the moment if I'm going to be able to get there for it. No matter, you and your mum are going, so that will be fun for you anyway.
If you want to emulate your dad, you should know that MY mum went into labour with me while she was at a barbecue on a national holiday.
Love you.
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