Hi, my little peanut!
Apparently, you aren't a peanut anymore, but you'll always be a peanut. The books say you are the size of an orange. Isn't it weird to think you were ever that small? We still don't know if you are a girl or a boy, but the money, apparently is that you are going to be a beautiful baby girl. To say I'm excited is an understatement.
So, peanut, I realized something the other day. I was thinking about what kind of kid I was hoping you are going to turn out like, I realized, I'm not sure, nor do I care if you are a jock, or a nerd or an extrovert or an introvert; whether you turn out gay or straight. Your mom and I are going to love you with every bit of our heart no matter what. What I realized is that we simply want you to turn out better than us.
We want you to have it better and we want you to be better than we ever could be. Apparently, it's what every parent wants. Your mom sets the bar pretty high. I hope you get her zest for life. I can tell you I've never met someone with so much life in them, and I just hope you get some of that. I think my generally optimistic view would be what I would hope you get from me. But, in the end, we hope you are better than we are. It's something to work towards, and it's something you will work toward for a long time, but your mom and I will hope that you are happy and we already think you are the best of us. You are the product of love; how could you be any less?
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