Dumb classes...

Dear son,

I must be honest with you. These Lamaze classes your mother and I have been going to are just kind of silly. The class leader is clearly very intelligent and knowledgeable about her topic, but I think the classroom/lecture type of thing we're doing is not really her strong point. As your arrival gets closer, I think your mom's anxiety level is steadily increasing, making her a little less patient and tolerant than she might otherwise be. I don't blame her at all, mind you; there is an annoying amount of silliness to be had in this class. But what can you do? Put a bunch of nervous, first-time parents together in a room and we'll all revert to school kids on the first day of school: shy and awkward and easily led. I'll confess, I admire your mother's courage. I think I'd go crazy having a baby inside of me. Furthermore, the father is practically useless in the delivery room, no matter what popular belief says today. I told your mother earlier if there were a way for her labor pains to be magical transferred to me, I would gladly bear them for her. But I can't, so I guess at least I'll be there to give her ice chips and give her somebody to hurl curses at when the pain comes. I'm just joking about that last part.

Love,
Dad