Lately I've been thinking about what should be the first words I say to Josie in the delivery room. Sure the kid isn't going to understand a word coming out of my mouth or even have clue who the big bald guy with glasses is. Although she might suspect we're related since I'll be gagging from all the goo that will be sticking on her. But what will i saw to her in her first moments of light and non-liquid environment?
The natural instinct is to just say, "I'm your daddy!" But I'd have to worry about flashbacks to way too many torrid nights with strange women. Wearing latex gloves and the odor of medical lubricants, won't help me forget all those times I told certain dates that I was daddy. I guess if I can't name the kid after a Hooter's waitress, I better not share the words I've used on a Hooter's waitress or two or three. Or at least told them in my really active imagination.
The phrase that keeps coming back to me is what pilots used to say on flights as we taxied to the gate. In the era before 9/11, at the end of the pilot telling us about the weather and connecting flights, he'd announce: "And now ends the safest part of your journey."
That pretty much sums up the act of being born. And it would be a fun story for her to relate to people about what her dad was like. "When I was born, he told me, 'And now ends the safest part of your journey.'"
I'll probably become so overcome with emotion that I'll probably declare, "Where are the other 7 babies? What a letdown."
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