Wednesday, November 21, 2007


I measured my vertical leap today. After 5 weeks on the program, I'm afraid I've only improved an inch and a half, bringing my leap to 28.5 inches, which you may recall was the number posted by countless 300 pound linemen in the NFL draft. At this rate I will be able to dunk a marble by the time you get here.

Other bad news, I'm hearing that you might be ugly. At least when you get here. Apparently twins come early and look sort of strange. You will probably grow out of it, though that's what people have been telling me my whole life and I'm still waiting.

On the upside, now that your girl parts have been confirmed you're ready to graduate to your real names. Honestly, I forget which one of you was Bear and which was Danger, but I've got a system for which goes with which this time. When I face your mom the one of you on the right is Ripley Finn. The one of you on the left is Nixon Jones. There you go. Two kids, four last names. You will undoubtedly meet people who will tell you that you were better off as Danger and Bear, but trust me, when you're in a class with five Addisons and ten Ashleys you'll thank us. Nixon, it took your mom a while to come around on your middle name, and she still reserves the right to freak out and change it, but I think it's going to stick. Now that we've got you identified we've started asking you to stop doing things to one another like real parents, i.e. Ripley stop sitting on your sister's head, Nixon stop punching your sister in the liver. This isn't so you can get used to following directions, it's so we can get used to you ignoring us.

Have run into a sticky chapter, so I continue to fall behind you two on that score. It's really intimidating to sit here staring at a blank screen and realize that whether I get anything done or not, you're still growing, still kicking, still coming. I have a history of finish line surges, so I'm not licked yet.

And frankly, I'm pretty excited about having daughters named Finn and Jones. Please remind me of that when we're all on a plane for the holidays and you two won't stop crying and everyone wishes we would die.

Novel - Ch12
Dunking - 28.5
French - Joyeux Thanksgiving

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