Where the heck are you? You're two days overdue now and your mother is very uncomfortable. You could have at least written or called to tell us you'd be late so we could prepare. We'd have forgiven the poor handwriting and the amniotic fluid on the note. We'd even have accepted an early arrival, although most people would tell you that showing up early is rude to your hosts. We're not your hosts, we're your parents, and we'd like you here at your earliest convenience. Sooner than that, really.
We've been trying to get Maddie to yell "Come out, Simon!" While she likes to kiss your mother's belly and say "Baby!" Every time we ask her to say, "Come out, Simon!" she says "NO!" Maybe this is all her fault. She did finally consent to yell, "GET OUT!" though, so that's progress. She does seem to very much want to have you here as much as we do, though, so don't let her words fool you.
Your Memere has been a tremendous help to us, and I'm not sure any of us would have survived without her here. You'll learn this soon enough, but your sister can be a bit of a pill sometimes. Your poor mother is struggling just to haul all 400 pounds of you around and still managing to keep the laundry done. (Laundry is horrible, Simon. Pray you never need to do it.) It's hard to keep the place in a constant state of readiness for your arrival at any moment.
Not that things will get any easier once you're here, of course. You probably don't know this, but babies are tough. It's not your fault, you just don't know how to pour yourself a glass of milk yet, so your mother has to feed you. You don't know how to tell us you're hungry, so you have to make the only noise you know how to make and hope we figure it out. We'll teach you all of these things, I promise, but I understand it may take you a couple of weeks to be up and around and taking care of yourself. Being born must be very hard.
All of that said, we can't wait to meet you, Simon. I know these letters have not been as numerous as any of us would have liked, but it's certainly not for lack of loving, and caring, and thinking, and worrying about you. We've loved you since before we could have even imagined your face, and we want more than anything to see it. I'm sure it will be worth the wait. On the other hand, you're going to be sorely disappointed when you learn that the booming voice you've heard through your mother's uterus has your dad's ugly face on it.
The moral of this story is that we currently have some delicious candy, but the longer you take to get here, the less likely there will be any left for you. You better hurry!
Your Very Impatient Daddy