+-----------------------------------------+
| Made with love                          |
+-----------------------------------------+--------+
|                                                  |
| Date: 20181115-20:07                             |
| Author: Sloum                                    |
| Soundtrack: Dungeoneering by Tim Hecker          |
|                                                  |
+--------------------------------------------------+------------------+

I accompanied my wife to her first ultrasound today. It turns out it 
_wasn't_ bad gas! There really is a kid forming in there! How cool is 
that? The slightly hamster-ish looking thing wiggled and danced as it 
came into focus on the monitor. Such a small thing. Amazing.

I have all these grand ideas about reading Robinson Carusoe to a child,
The Lord of the Rings, playing piano or guitar together, going on bike
rides on dirt paths surrounded by the oak trees that are common near
our home, building computers together and teaching them to code,
cooking, camping, and hiking...

While I am sure we will do some of those things, I am realising that 
the child will not be a miniature version or me, not really. At some 
point the world will take them away from me, teach them all the things 
I want to protect them from. Particularly as I look at all of the ways 
I am, and am not, like _my_ parents.

I think it is likely a good thing though. They will have their own
adventures and their own rebelions. I wouldn't want to deprive them
of those. 

Hopefully they'll like Lord of the Rings at least (the books, not the
movies). Maybe I can even get them to play a few rounds of Angband or 
Moria someday.

Really, I just hope things keep going well and that they both (my wife
and the baby) remain healthy.


" Let there be only one blanket,
  just big enough to share.
  And let us share it. "

That ended a poem my wife wrote to me a few years ago when she lived on 
the other side of the country. I don't know why it came to mind, but I 
wanted to add it here while she snores lightly on the couch as I sit and
write this entry and think about hopes and dreams and how lucky I am.

 .
. .