Yes. Hello babymeister. It's your papashmueler. We now share two things: half of our chromosomes and our quadrasylabic nicknames. Cool.
You have really taken some serious steps to round out your personality lately. Nice work. I won't say I'm proud or anything, I mean, that's just not fatherly to do, but hey, here's the proverbial smack on the butt.
You've taken to wiggling through meals, viewings, and social encounters. Mom treats you a little bit like a Halloween trick, showing you off to friends who ooh! and ahhh! and grasp their knees in petrified terror at your tremors; the grandparents treat you like the mystical vessel that Professor Dumbledore keeps his memories swirling in; our friends treat you like a party favor, bestowing oddly miniature items upon us in your theoretical name; and strangers...well strangers just know.
There is an odd inverse correlation between how well you actually know the baby, and how much you absolutely know about the baby. Let me say more: those confidants actually emotionally or familially close to your little fetus self only ask questions and act uncertain about every little detail (including, at times, what species you will be, what gender you will be, and if you ever actually will BE); on the other hand, those strangers who know absolutely nothing about us or you (including your species, gender, and cumulative existential certainty) seem to be endowed with the uncanny eye of the oracle--they seem confident in predicting...no, prophesizing every detail down to your neonatal dietary whims.
Well, that's the correspondence from the extrawombal word. Please dispatch a full record of interwombal goings on.
Love, papaoala
Such a funny papa!
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