Dear Smush,
I know you’re still cooking in the proverbial oven. Don’t rush to come out. It’s been in the 40’s at night for us recently and that’s quite a bit colder than the 98.6° and occasional 102° Jacuzzi temps that you’re used to. (I waited until summer time to be born and I’ll do it again when I have to…)
When you decide to take the wild ride down the ‘chute’, just remember that you can’t go back and do it twice…unless we hang your mom upside down. The hospital will make you John Hancock some paperwork first, so if you want to relive the birth experience, bring a pen. Here’s an FYI and I know it’s lame, but when you hit the slide, you can’t put your hands out in front of you to save your face from eating the floor. You just gotta go head first and pray that the catcher doesn’t drop your pitch. You’ll see what I mean when it’s time.
I’m probably going to be the first family member to greet you. I’m your dad. I know you’ll probably come out white like your brother did and look at me confusingly. Later, I’ll show you that I signed the birth certificate. But if you need more proof, we’ll make Maury Povich (I’ve got connections.) do another episode of “Is He the Father?” and get the DNA test done. Also, I’m growing a little stubble on my chin (and working out my arms) for the hospital birth pictures. I want to look my best, so try to arrive during the daytime. That way, I won’t have huge bags under my eyes for the photos.
If I faint at your coming out party, look down on your way out so you don’t fall on top of me. If I’m awake, I’ll either be standing frozen like a deer in headlights or be sobbing like I’ve just watched ‘The Notebook’. I’ll also volunteer to cut the cord, if you don’t mind. This time should be a no-brainer for me. Unlike with Worm, there should be only one cord to think about putting the scissors to. (I won’t need to repeat this scene: “Nurse. It’s this one, right? Are you positively certain?”)
After I permanently separate you from your mother, you’ll get to go back and meet her! She’ll be laying on the bed getting the damage repaired. (Don’t ask. But I’m sure when you’re older and have pissed her off, she’ll tell you about what she went through just to bring you here and how you should be more grateful…) This is the person you really want to make friends with. Why? Because you’ll be getting a lot of love, warmth, and most importantly, food from this woman. She’s grown a nice set of milk pumpkins for me you, so grab a blanket and an US Weekly because this will be the place to see and be seen for quite a while.
Worm is your brother. He isn’t going to be in the room when you show up. Steph and I don’t think it’s a good idea for him to be at eye level with all of the, um, action. He’s all about his tools and his workbench right now and our main concern is that he may try to run his version of the APGAR with his plastic hammer and screwdriver. Besides, if he was at the birth, the hospital would make him sign a bunch of paperwork too.
I hope you’re not allergic to animals because you’ve got two dogs at home, Frodo and Duncan. They’re both lovable knuckleheads and you’ll get to play with them once you’re sturdy enough to withstand being bowled over during their feeding time. They’re a couple of clumsy oafs but we love them anyway. We think you’ll love them too. For now though, you’ll have to keep your distance. Dunkie’s farts are lethal!
So that’s us in a nutshell. Welcome to the zoo your family! We’re dysfunctional, but no worse than anyone else…I think.
Oh, one more thing. We hope that you’ll like your name. Your mother and I couldn’t make up minds about it until recently. Then we just got lazy researching and so the most recent first and middle names we wrote down have turned to stone. There are no ‘clicks’ or exclamation points in them like I really wanted. But in Klingon, your name means ‘digested serpent arm’ and that’s cool enough for me. In my heart though, you’ll always be known as Smush.
We love you already and can’t wait to meet you!