It's my birthday today, and I didn't feel like making a comic. Not because I was lazy, but because I have been all jazzed up about the little critter above. That, my good readers, is either my son or my daughter. The picture is at 10 weeks, today he/she is about 12 weeks. There was quite a bit of dancing during the photo shoot, so my wife and I call him wiggle. Today is the first day that we are telling everyone, and it has been a wonderful load off our shoulders.

As there is a small but real possibility that this little guy/gal will read this some day, I will write a little time capsule poem for them. (Yes, I took one poetry class in college!)

"A Note To My Child"

Crying, throwing up,
filling a diaper with unfathomable sights
and smells.
Waking me from my precious sleep
every few hours, like clockwork.
How does the baby tell time?
I miss my sleep, but I love my child.

Artwork on the walls, yet no paper in sight.
Washable markers lie in advertising,
the ceiling mural confuses the most.
Hobbies and interests emerge
and retreat,
leaving behind an echo of mess.
I miss my cleanliness, but I love my child.

Hormones arrive and refuse to leave.
Friends and enemies,
interchangeable from week to week,
illicit scandal in equal measure.
Jokingly I mention "Twilight",
a film oozing with angst.
My age is met with rolling eyes.
I miss being cool, but I love my child.

Exponential speed of independence.
Moving out, college and marriage,
hopefully with no steps repeated.
The child calls, but smiles at being called as such,
an adult would be the proper term.
I miss nothing, and I love my child.