A Letter to Baby Audrey. . .

Dear Audrey,

Here’s a letter from your dad on the eve of your very first Easter. I can’t wait until tomorrow to see you in your new outfit and to watch you tear into your overstuffed Easter basket - ok, you’ll probably just stare at it, but that’s ok, I’ll be there to help.

And happy birthday, Peanut. Two months old today, and just one day past your original due date. So now the official clock can begin for all your milestones - smiling, cooing, crawling, talking, etc. That’s gives us about 15 months to get you reading so we can be invited to appear on the Today show and we get a free trip to New York. No pressure, though, Sweetie.

Oh oh. You just started crying in your crib. But you just ate two hours ago. You can’t be hungry already, can you? Seriously? I’ll be right back. . .

Ok, Daddy just spent 30 minutes stubbornly trying to comfort you before finally giving in and giving you a bottle. By the way, your adorable, squeaky preemie cry is now gone and has been replaced by an loud, angry scream. There’s really no guess work when trying to read your moods, Sweetie. There’s happy, mildly agitated, and HOLY CRAP I AM ANGRY GET ME MY FREAKING BOTTLE RIGHT NOW WHAT ARE YOU WAITNG FOR YOU HORRIBLE EXCUSE FOR A PARENT AAHHGGG!!!!!

And you also have the uncanny ability to cry just as Daddy is beginning a task - reading a book, eating lunch, or writing this letter. You no doubt inherited this innate trait from your mommy.

Daddy worked at the Target Center tonight at a Timberwolves game, and the weirdest thing happened - 14,000 people showed up wearing costumes that looked just like empty blue seats. Strange. Anyway, while there I saw someone smaller than you for the first time. A family, complete with two year-old and tiny baby girl sat in my section. I asked the dad how old the infant was and learned that she was born just three weeks ago. She had the shrunken head, shriveled skin look that you had for several weeks before your cheeks puffed out. I couldn’t get over how small she was. I assumed she was full term, however, because why else would her parents cart her off to the Target Center? According to your mom, Children’s Hospital reported 14 gazillion new cases of infant RSV last week, or something like that. Ok, that’s a slight exaggeration. You’ll need to get used to that. Regardless, we’re not venturing out into public with you for a couple more weeks.

Three feelings struck me as I chatted up the dad about birth weights and such. One was pride - I was proud of you and all the growing you’ve done the last two months. Then, while we were talking, the actual occupants of the seats the family had camped in walked up. So then I was embarrassed. Squatters! In my section! Lastly - bewilderment - why would you squat in someone else’s seats with a two year-old and an infant? It must have taking three solid minutes for them to collect their belonging and finally move. The dad sheepishly asked me if they could stay rather than hump it all the way up to the upper deck. I ushered him up to the top of my section. He seemed like a nice guy, if a little dim. And he was wearing a Knicks jersey, so I felt sorry for him.

Someday I will take you to a Timberwolves game. But I want you to be a little older, maybe three or four. I’m looking forward to taking you down on the floor and seeing your eyes all but pop out of your head when you see the players come out for warn-ups. And I’m sure your head will spin when you see the dancers and the Jumbotron and Crunch the mascot and the cotton candy vendor and all the other stimulation in the arena. Hopefully you make it until halftime before total sensory overload.

As for the game tonight, the T-Puppies scored 42 points in the first quarter - the most I had ever seen. It was the most entertaining quarter we’ve had all year. This feat was, of course, aided by the fact that the Wolves were playing the terminally inept New Your Knickerbockers. Casual observers tend to roll their eyes at the term NBA “defense,” but the Knicks take it to a new level. It was seriously the worst defensive effort I’ve ever witnessed. I’ve seen better defense at all-star pregame warm-ups. Let me put this in a way that you can understand. Imagine that daddy had one of your dirty diapers and wanted to put it into the diaper genie trash can and it was your job to get in the way and prevent me from doing so. That’s pretty much how effective the Knicks were tonight. See, in addition to Daddy’s little lectures about Minneapolis history, you also have my NBA defensive analyses to look forward to when we venture downtown.

Once again, happy birthday, happy Easter, happy passing-the-due-date day. Now it’s time for me to go to bed. I’ve got to get up to feed you in about 40 minutes.

Love,

Daddy