Dear Son,

When you entered this world, you changed my life in all the beautiful, meaningful ways I completely expected. However, you’ve also changed me in some not so expected ways:

Your cry haunts me all day long. When I am nowhere near you and it’s a little too quiet, I hear an echo of your screams in the distance. It takes me a second to realize it’s not you. This is very unsettling. I smell your poop even when there’s no poop. I’ll be sitting at work when suddenly the smell fills my nose. I start checking to make sure there’s no covert baby poop smear on my clothing, but just as suddenly, the smell’s gone. This is much worse than the crying thing. I can no longer stand perfectly still. Instinctually, I start bouncing up and down as if I am trying to soothe a crying baby, even when there is no baby. This makes me look a little insane in public. Speaking of bouncing, holy fcking thigh muscles. I don’t know if it’s from all the yoga ball bouncing we do when putting you to sleep, or the amount of upstairs-downstairs trips I make at home, but my thigh muscles are bulging. This I do not mind. Fcking baby clothes. I can’t help myself, but I love shopping for your clothes. I neither can explain this nor want to understand it. It makes me super uncomfortable. Finally, you legitimately make me a better person. I did read about this and expected it to happen, but not to this extent. I literally consider how almost all my decisions are going to impact you. Also, you’ve done something to me subliminally. Someone at work accused me of becoming a nicer person since you were born. A NICER PERSON. Can you believe this shit? You’ve broken me.

IMHO, you have changed me in some pretty crazy ways—ways I pray are not permanent. Except the thigh thing…that can stay. Also, maybe the better person thing. Maybe.

With love,

Pop-Pop

PS: I don’t actually call myself “Pop-Pop;” I’ve just been watching an awful lot of Arrested Development.