I just finished having shot four of eighteen. And while my butt is absolutely burning, I'm trying to think about all the good stuff. And I'm at that stage when I'm starting to use my imagination.
See, I can feel her moving around. According to everything I've read, how active the baby is in the womb is a good indicator of how active the baby will be after birth. We're going to have a mellow baby. And I need that.
I'm getting too old to run around after a little one. I've always been too busy to run around after a little one. I have mellow life. Such is the life of a writer. The imagination is part of being a writer, too.
These days, I'm dreaming about what this new daughter of ours is going to be like. I wonder if she's going to be a ginger like her father or a brunette like I can be...when her father isn't convincing me to go black and blonde. I wonder if she'll be all creative or athletic. I wonder if she'll be musical. I wonder all kinds of things about the life we have in store for her and with her.
As a child of ours, she'll have to like s'mores. As a child of mine she probably won't have food allergies. As his daughter, may she love to sleep...all through the night...and take naps.
I have a long way to go. And though I would love to sit back and imagine, I have to turn that imagination to more important endeavors. We have a big future to build. And it isn't going to happen with me just sitting around imagining. Dreamers have to be doers, too. We have that covered.
I hope she'll be born perfect and not too soon. My thoughts and prayers are with you dear.
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