Well kid, we are at (t – 4 weeks). I will be very interested to see if a.) you decide to arrive when the medical professionals and various sonogram machines say you will, b.) if you are able to exit my body in under 10 hours, and c.) whether or not you will go home from the hospital in gender-appropriate clothing.

I’m not sure why, but lately it seems that you have been testing the logistics of busting out of my uterus through the top of my stomach. I regularly feel you wedge your shoulder firmly against my hip-bone and push up with your feet with enough force to make me feel like I am going to re-enact that scene from the movie Alien. I don’t know who gave you this brilliant idea, but I want you to stop haning out with them this instant. And as for all these new stretch marks you are giving me – you will be grounded for this later.

We have been busily preparing for your arrival by, well, um, by – Okay! I admit it! We haven’t done anything other than spend our time trying to make sure that your big sister is aware of the implications of your arrival. (The importance of this will become obvious to you soon enough.) And speaking of your big sister…

I think now is also the time we need to have a talk about that incessant jabbering you hear all the time. That would be your big sister, Stella. I’m not really sure where to begin on this one. There are some things you’ll want to know about her right off the bat: She picks her nose. A lot. Don’t be too grossed out when she tries to pick yours. She’d just as soon smother you in kisses as she would just plain smother you. Don’t take this personally. She regularly has to be reprimanded for sitting on the other little kids at day dare. Also, she’s a biter. We are showing good progress in this area and hope to have it under control by the time you arrive – but we can’t promise anything. Mostly, what you need to know is that she has done you a great service by breaking us in. We have expended much of our freakish and obsessive parenting behavior on her and are hopefully going to be a little better at it this time around. Again, no promises, but we are optimistic.

So, my sweet little lump of baby, I guess what I am trying to say is: I hope you are born with one wicked sense of humor. You’re gonna need it.