Thinking of you, Choo Choo

You’re not even born yet, Choo Choo. You’re still inside Mommy. You’re real, and you already exist in our hearts, but you’re still just a dream, a vision of the future, of what’s — or rather, who’s to come.

A little over 2.5 years ago, we asked the same thing about your sister, Monkey. Mommy felt her moving around inside her, I could see and feel her kick. But we didn’t know her. We didn’t know what she’d look like, how she’d act, if she’d cry or laugh, when she’d walk, or even if she’d like us.

Now, we look Mommy’s wriggling belly, and we wonder: who will you be?

I think this is the best part of being a Dad — the part when I get to look at my children and see what is happening: how you grow, how you learn, the things you dpo and say. They all lead somewhere. It’s sort of like the saying:

It’s not the destination, but the journey that matters most.

I remember an old co-worker of mine, Mark James. Probably one of the smartest people I ever met. (Mind you, he worked in a group filled with amazingly smart people. I will always feel privileged to have worked with them.) We joked that when he had his first child — a girl — that he would write a program to mirror his daughter’s own development.

I’m sorry to say that I’m not that smart, Choo Choo. You can expect Mommy and I to record the major things in your life — birth, words, walking, running, school. You’ll never be at a loss to wonder what you were like as a child. You’ll be able to see it for yourself. (So don’t be surprised when you finally see the light, only to have a lens appear in front of you. It’ll only be me.)

But I wonder — where will you go? Who will you meet? What will you learn? Will you follow in your parent’s footsteps? Your sister’s? Or will you go your own way?

This I’m sure: you will be another wonder in my life. No matter how bad a day I have, I will always be happy to see you. I will try to be the last person you see before you sleep, and the first person you see in the morning. I probably won’t be the first person you see when you’re born, but listen closely — I’ll be there.

And I always will be.