And it's not going to fall off a bridge.
And it's not going to have an intestinal blockage.
And it's not going to fall from the second story of the Staples Center.
And it's not going to die at the hands of a falling toy box lid.
And it's not going to need a leash because I'll hold it forever.
And it's not going to die from SIDS.
And it's not going to grow up to resent me.
And it's not going to have an eating disorder.
And it's not going to grow up in a hostile household.
And it's not going mistrust me.
And it's going to find a friend in me.
And it's going to get everything it needs from me.
And it's going to have open arms to cry in.
And it's going to be whoever it wants to be.
And it's going to college.
And it's going to experiment, I know.
And it's going to know what's right and what's not.
And it's going to have good judgment.
And it's going to be beautiful, no matter what.
And it's going to wear baby clothes, probably from Target.
And I'm going to cook for it.
And I'm going to speak German to it.
And I'm going to guide it without being too pushy.
And I'm going to spoil it, but it won't be spoiled.
And I'm going to give it advice.
And I'm going to protect it but try not to constrict it.
And I'm going to make time for it. Always.
And I'm going to clean up its messes.
And I'm going to be so proud of everything it does.
And I'm going to cry at least 100,000 times.
