As I prepare to embark on my drive to Delray Beach, Florida today, I felt that I needed to give you a message. I know you can’t actually read this (either that, or you’re exceptionally good at keeping your comments to yourself), but I’m hoping that Paul will read you this while I’m gone.
I know you can sense that something big is coming (about eight pounds, actually). You’ve been moping about, listlessly chewing your rubber shoe, and heaving huge, heavy-hearted heffalump sighs against the other side of the closed bathroom door. I know you are worried. Don’t be. No matter what happens, you’ll still be the pup that sleeps under the covers with his head on my pillow. No matter what happens, you’ll still get first pick at the McDonald’s drive-thru. You’ve been my #1 man for over three years now, and that has meant a lot to me. So know this: I may love this new little bundle of joy, and I may give her a lot of attention after she poops in my Coach tote, but know that I will always Always ALWAYS love you just a little bit more.
-Mom