Dear Felix,
Welcome to the world, little guy.
You may have heard the rumor that, as the second-born, you're already holding the short end of the stick. I didn't blog about you all through pregnancy, your crib is a hand-me-down, and it's inevitable that at some point your harried mother will put a pink bib on you because really, nobody will know the difference.
But you're not just Evie's sequel, the little brother, number two. You're a brand new person, new to our family, new to the world.
Your name means "Lucky" or "Happy" in Latin, and is the root of many good wishes: Felicitations. Felicitous occasions. Feliz Navidad. When we look at the path that brought us here, the unexpected turns in our lives, and the joy that surrounds us today, it seems like the perfect name for you. Your middle name, Peter, is in honor of your grandfather. While you didn't have the opportunity to meet him, I can safely surmise that he would have been quite taken with you.
You're not yet 24 hours old, but you've already met many people: Your parents, your big sister, your grandmothers, and one of your aunties. More admirers are anticipated in the coming days. Facebook is all abuzz with your arrival.
It's a big job, giving you a childhood that will live up to the promise of your birth - my much-anticipated, well-loved, happy, lucky little boy. But I couldn't be more excited.
