Dearest little elusive bub,
So I guess this is not the month for you to make your grand entrance.
But it’s okay, I know you will be here eventually. As long as your Dad and I remain happily, blissfully and madly in love, so you will be made. I’m in no hurry, I’m in no rush, you will come to us when God feels that you and, more importantly, we are ready.
I’m not angry, I am not bitter – I think I have reached this zen place (OHM) where I am just patiently wondering where you are. Who you will look like. What sort of personality you will have. If you will be a sweet baby or a feisty one. Will you have big eyes. Are you going to be comfortable around strangers. What will your singing voice be. What’s the first word you will utter. Will you be a bookworm like your Mommy is. Or will you be a games genius your Dad secretly hopes you will be. Who your first love will be.
The problem was, as I have admitted to your Dad this afternoon while we sat in Starbucks sipping our coffee, I over plan my life. I plan my future in such minute detail despite the fact that many important things have not come into fruition. And, as your Dad pointed out, I have also not included him in the equation. I naturally assumed that he would go along with my plans (because he usually does, he loves me THAT much). But this time, this one teeny tiny but EXTREMELY CRUCIAL portion of the equation was from him and things weren’t looking good.
Oops? Oops.
Ah well. Lesson learnt, baby. Don’t be like me. Thankfully, your Dad doesn’t see me as this neurotic nutter (AND YOU HAD BETTER NOT TOO BECAUSE I WILL BIRTH YOUR LITTLE ASS OUT OF MINE. SORT OF) and thought I was hilarious. Which I probably am. I make your Dad laugh. And that’s good.
When you grow up, you will understand how strong an aphrodisiac humour is. Don’t waste your money on stupid things like champagne and oysters: laughter, really, is the best way to a person’s heart.
Also, even though you are still a dream to me, I am hoping that this dream will come true soon. And that you will share the exceedingly good taste in music as your parents. I was listening to this on my way home one day and almost cried in the bus. Tsk.
Love you already,
Your Mommy
Yannisms 