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Dear Ampersand,

Let me first explain the reason behind the greeting above.  In an effort to bestow upon you a level of uniqueness unparalleled in the world of baby names, I championed the squiggly punctuation we so lovingly associate with such historically great combos as Peanut Butter & Jelly, Tom & Jerry, and Barnum & Bailey.  My efforts fell short of gaining the approval of a certain someone (cough, your mother, cough), therefore the grammatical equivalent of awesome was vetoed.  But don’t fret, you’ll always be my little Ampersand.

Today is July 24th, which means you are scheduled to make your debut in a little less than 3 weeks.  Your mother and I spent this past weekend frantically preparing the house for your arrival, as if we had completely ignored her ever-growing belly region for the past 37 weeks and woke up Saturday to the startling revelation that she was pregnant.  The following conversation could have been the caption under a picture of our faces over the weekend:

Me: “Holy cow!  Look at your stomach, what did you eat last night?”

Your Mother: “I don’t know, but I’m really hot and my boobs look bigger.”

Me: “You don’t think you’re pregnant and we’ve just spent the past 8 months actively denying the growing fetus inside of you, do you?”

Both of us: “Crap!”

Since you have yet to take your first breath, I’m going to assume you aren’t yet familiar with my sarcastic humor.  Let me clear up the above comments.  We weren’t really denying you, in fact we’re super excited to finally meet the newest addition to the family.  We’re just really good at procrastinating, and so we’ve waiting until the last minute to prepare your welcome wagon.

I think you’ll be quite pleased with the accommodations we’ve set up for you, you know, once you’ve looked past the fact that your “room” is, in fact, the skeletal remains of my closet.  I know, I know, the first two munchkins got their own actual rooms.  Unfortunately, the architectural properties of our house left us with two options: the “nursery nook” (as we have so affectionately deemed it) or the closet under the basement stairs.  Considering the unlikely possibility that you’ll come out with a lightning bolt-shaped scar on your forehead, and the fact that we simply cannot afford to pay for Hogwarts, the “nook” seemed like the way to go.

On Sunday, I frustratingly negotiated the rubric’s cube that is our car, as I attempted to find the best way to arrange 3 car seats.  You’ve been given the spot directly behind the driver’s seat and next to your big sister, Izzy.  I’ll warn you that she has been known to take pacifiers directly from the mouth of your brother Jake, so I recommend gripping yours as tightly as your little gums can handle.

Now I know this might be asking a little much of you, but I was wondering if you’d be willing to bypass the whole “I’m an infant, I only sleep for 2 hours at a time” thing.  Let’s be honest, it’s awfully cliché and from what I can tell from your sonogram, it seems below you to submit to society’s conventions.  I mean we almost named you after a punctuation mark for crying out loud; you’re way too cool to let “the man” dictate your behavior, am I right?  Just give it some thought and we’ll discuss it in person soon enough.

I also ask that you be patient with your mother and I.  You see, for the past two years we’ve been playing 2-on-2 against your siblings and our size advantage, as well as our ability to use phrases such as “Because I said so!”, have enabled us to maintain the upper hand (for the most part).  But with your presence in the lineup, we find ourselves in unfamiliar territory; outnumbered by little people.  Our ability to adjust to double and triple teams will be what determines our legacy as parents, but I think we should be afforded a learning curve in the beginning.  

So as the days tick by and we anxiously await your arrival, know that we are doing everything we can to provide you the same loving environment we gave to your sister and brother.  But also know that your mother and I are working extra hard on our zone defense since man-to-man is no longer an option.  See you soon, little one.


Your Father (aka The Wordslinger…I’ll explain that later)