Dear Baby Martial Artist,
Two nights ago, somewhere between February 4th and 5th, your mother joked about how hard you were kicking her ribs. No pressure, but I think your first Country/Western album should be "Kickin' Ribs". Or if you decide to become a chef and restauranteur, perhaps your first restaurant will have that name.
In the meantime, I continue to be astonished at how your mother handles all of this. I'm going to write another entry about the actual night your mother started having contractions but wanted to capture this image of you, at 3 in the morning, kicking your mother and her talking with a mixture of joy and pain about you kicking her ribs.
See you soon.
dad
