To my unborn child,
There are many things I might wish for you. I could wish upon you aspects of a successful life, or experiences I think are important. I might wish that you understand value or love or Quality or any of the pieces of my world that make me who I am. I might wish that you understand me or your mother, or that you understand us together. I might wish that you love road trips and have long friendships, or that you cry at sad movies or that you appreciate what you have. I might wish that you are caring or insightful or intelligent.
And to some degree I do indeed hope that all these things are true, but I hope them for my sake and not for yours. It seems odd to wish that you are happy; we all struggle for happiness, and it is the struggle that defines us, that crafts us into our Self. So for my sake, I wish your days are happy ones, but for your part that seems rather meaningless.
All I truly wish for is that you are your own person, that you come into this world and recognize it not for its sadness or violence or baser arts, but for the opportunity it holds for you to make yourself a part of it. I hope that you find a path toward Self that feels right to you and that you pursue it recklessly. I hope you invest yourself in the inverse of Socrates' famous words, that the examined life is worth living, and that you are happy with what you make (or don't make) of yourself.
I cannot wait to watch you grow and to offer you what meager advice I have about the world. I cannot wait to play with you, to watch you learn, and to learn through you. If you would allow me, I hope that I can be a teacher, a confidant, and perhaps a friend. I hope that I can be an example, an expert, and an exceptional man as my father was for me.
But most of all, I hope that you find a Self that you are happy with.
And if you cannot oblige me any of the above, I hope that you at least enjoy playing Lego.
Originally from here.