To my firstborn son, Jack,
I’m writing this to you just as you’re a few weeks old. At this point in your life you’re unable to read much less understand anything that I might try to say. As far as I can tell, your only concerns are to fed, sleep, and receive your parents’ undying attention, but I write hoping that one day these letters would tell you what kind of people your mom and I are as we bring you into this world. I thought it might be important because I’m not quite sure we’ll be the same when you’re old enough. God forbid anything should happen to us, at least you’ll always have a part of me.
I know you won’t be the same when you’re older and it’s important to know where you come from. Sitting by your crib, I can already tell that you have your mother’s sense of humor. You laugh at almost everything I say and blankly look at me when my jokes aren’t too funny. You also have her twinkling eyes and and her cute nose that first attracted me to her. I can see your grandfather’s chin, which is mine also. It’s a chin forged through years of sturdiness and calm, something that you’ll need in this stressful and hectic world. I’m sorry, but you also have my ears. They’re also going to help instill something inside you, because the other kids and the girls will probably make fun of you for them.
I find myself utterly unprepared to be your father. Night after night, I wonder what kind of person you might become and the role that I’ll play in the man that you’ll be. Please don’t judge me or your mom too harshly, but I think your little brother or sister will turn out better. You’re our first and we’re going to try our hardest, but we’ll make mistakes. I just hope they’re not that kind of mistakes that leave you with years of therapy bills or latent fears that may pervade into your other relationships.
In a few weeks, we’ll be celebrating your very first Christmas! Your mom and I are very excited. She wants to make a big deal of it, but I keep telling her that I’ll just dress you in a big black garbage bag and call it a day. You’ll grow to find that your dad’s not too keen on the fashion senses. I think your mom will win with this one and you’re going to have a great first Christmas… assuming you’re still a good boy these next two weeks.
I plan to write you again. I’ll tell of how I met your mother, lessons that I want to pass on, and share the things I value the most. Again, that’s the purpose of these letters. So that one day, you know who your old man and his wife are and maybe in a small way figure out who you are too.
You are always wanted and well loved.
I love you dearly,