Hey babe, how's it going in there? You alright? You're moving around a lot down there. Flipping and flopping, heads and tails, squirming about. Trying to get comfy? Your amazing mother can feel it, but I haven't yet had the chance. Not for a lack of rubbing your mum's belly, but we're a few weeks away from me getting a feel. There's a joke there, you'll get it later. Yep, it's your dear old dad here checking in.
So, my little Sean, you're my boy. Wow. You're my boy! My son! Our son, really, because your mother counts as well. She's doing all the work right now. And lets be realistic...she'll be doing most of the work for quite awhile. What with the whole 'you-getting-out-of-her-body' thing, the breast feeding, this merconium thing I learned about in the pre-Sean-atal classes, lots of stuff. As your dad I get to bypass the physical pain and discomfort of your arrival into this crazy world and get to the good stuff. Once you're out, I get to put little Chicago Bears booties on your feet (that Uncle Marc got you before the Bears made that ridiculous trade for Jay Cutler for 2 first rounders and a third and Kyle Orton...) and take you back to your future home. No matter, you'll be coming home. Home. Funny word, 'home'.
Home. Your first licks in the face from a big black lab and a crazy Cairn. Home. Your first ever bedroom. Home. Where you took your first steps. Home. Home. Home. Its a great word, funny as it sounds. Its where you're supposed to be. Home. Can't wait til you get here and all heck breaks loose.
Keep doing whatever it is you're doing in there, Sean. Its working out. Your dad is one proud guy.