You are all snug in your bed and Daddy and I are busy preparing for your surgery tomorrow.
It is ironic to me that you are just beginning to open your eyes now, when we finally get the surgery scheduled. Before people used to ask me what color your eyes were, and for the longest time I couldn't really say. I could only see the smallest slit and there wasn't enough to be able to tell. Now I can confidently say blue--the same color blue as your Daddy's. Now when we go out people don't assume you are sleeping. They only assume you are sleepy. Surgery is still necessary, especially since your left eye is a little droopier than the right. Symmetry is important. But I love the way you always look toward the light. It tells me that you want to see. And I am encouraged by the improvement you are making in tracking and focusing. In about a month your contacts will be in and you will be shocked at the world around you.
P.S.--As I learn life lessons the hard way, I am going to pass them down to you in these letters.
When you get a haircut, don't be too chatty. If your hairdresser starts telling you her life story, she might get carried away with the sissors...