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12/22/2004: "B-A-B-Y"

You are born, I hear. About the time I was squirming at the Bell Choir Christmas party, nervous about getting to the church on time, you made your appearance. I am also a Sunday child, and it is not a good day for sneezing or cutting your nails, but it's a fair day to be born on. I don't know if you have sneezed yet; babies have sneezes as tiny as their fingernails. I'll tell you one thing: don't judge this world by how cold and how dark it has been since you arrived. It'll start getting brighter and warmer soon enough. I imagine you've learned a lot these three days, and yet a lot to learn. You've met the family; the one with the red hair who's been making faces at you, she's my favorite, but they're all worth knowing. By the way, colors on people aren't the same as colors everywhere else. if an apple was the color of your aunt's hair it'd be an orange. I'd offer you advice if I had any. Nobody's as good or as bad as they seem. Cover your mouth when you cough. Don't mix wine and whisky. I hope to see you soon.