Dear Jill Marie Halpert,

You're sleeping now and so is your mommy - Pam. Pam is your mommy and I'm your daddy - Jim. It's just occurred to me that someday you might wonder why we all have one syllable names. This was not by design I promise you. In fact mommy's name is Pamela. So there. We're not idiots. Though I guess you're bound to think we are at some point.

Wow, I am not good at this. I can't believe that those are the first words I ever wrote to you. But there's no turning back now. It would be disingenuous to change them and I don't think we should start our relationship off that way. Besides all that, I'm writing in ink. Just know that I'm ashamed of starting with the one syllable thing. Truly.

You should know that I use humor a lot. Especially when I have no idea of what else to do. How else to be. But enough about me...how's it going with you, Jill Marie Halpert?

I'm sitting outside of the nursery in the hospital right now and I swear I've never seen anyone sleep as soundly as you are. You're all pink and clean now - thankfully. You were born two hours and 5 minutes ago and I'm wondering when all of this is going to sink in. I'm also wondering if this journal and sketch thing that mommy came up with is a good idea or bad one.

About three weeks ago she bought a journal with blank pages (no lines - hence my diagonal words) and she decided that I would do the writing and she'd draw pictures to go along with each entry (if we're lucky maybe we can talk her into some of this writing as well). I'm not sure what she's going to draw for this entry, since I don't seem to be able to write anything in particular. I'm not sure what you'll think of this when you're old enough to understand. Mommy's real creative though and I'm sure this won't be the last of things that she comes up with.

Pam - your mommy has been telling me for months that you've been sucking the brain power away from her. Maybe you've done that to me as well. Or maybe it's because I've been up for almost 20 hours.

I'm looking at you again and I know right now in this moment...that this is real. You're real. You're mine and you're beautiful. Welcome to our little part of the world - it suddenly seems not so little at all.

I love you,

Daddy

~~~~~~~

Dear Jill,

I do not understand how you could not be overjoyed all day long! You get to spend the entire day with mommy and I! You must not realize what a fantastic gig you've got going here.

Poor mommy is feeling like maybe you don't love her the way you love me though. Which of course is ridiculous. Mostly you love that teddy bear that g-ma Halpert got you. An inanimate object that lets you drool all over it for hours on end? What's not to love about that?

Mommy loves you so much. Cut her some slack.

Your love fool,

Daddy

~~~~~~~

Dear Jill,

Men are idiots. This is a statement of fact that should not be ignored. It is a fact that pains me because sometimes - every now and then - this statement of fact includes yours truly.

My behavior with your mom and you by extension was inexcusable earlier today. We (your mommy and I ) were both so excited by the idea of you coming in to the office today. In to the place where we met! The place we've both spent so much time and just quite frankly wanted to show you off. You amaze us everyday by how freaking smart you are and how quickly you learn things. But anyway...obviously I digress - not wanting to point out what jerk I really was.

Roy came into the office with you and mommy. I realize you don't know who Roy is and that's great. We'll keep it that way.

No, just kidding. How shall I explain Roy...hmm...ok, let's keep in mind mommy is going to read this...

Roy is a man that mommy dated before she met daddy. Well after she met daddy too, but before she realized the error of her ways. And I am completely mature about this subject. So I wasn't really ready for the reaction that I had today when he walked into the office with you and mommy on Bring Your Daughter To Work day (seriously - you can tell this is going to be a great story, right? I mean come on! Bring Your Daughter To Work Day - can't you feel the drama already?!) Needless to say, I did not want to see Roy on your mom's arm. So I acted like a jerk. I wouldn't talk to mommy. I wouldn't talk to you.

You and mommy left and when I came home tonight, mommy started crying. Jill, I hate it when you and mommy cry. You I can take a bit more because you cry for things like hunger, or because you're wet, or because you're uncomfortable. You just cry because you want to cry. Mommy never cries though. But she cried today because I hurt her. This is completely unacceptable. Not her crying - me hurting her feelings.

I'm pretty sure the first time this happens with you (when it's not due to hunger or poop) it will probably hurl me into some massive depressive state. I'll try not to let that happen.

Now, the first time some other guy makes you cry - I'll kill him.

Not for realsies. Just kidding. Obviously I would have Dwight do it.

I love you,

Daddy

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Dear Jill,

Seriously? Cooey?

Ok, I don't really have anything else to say about it. I just want mommy to have to draw a picture of Cooey. ROCK ON COOEY!

Love ya,

Daddy

~~~~~~~

Dear Jill,

Don't tell mommy I gave you pudding.

Draw that.

Love you,

Daddy

~~~~~~~

Dear Jill,

In spite of what mommy says I am taking this journal very seriously. In fact, I am taking this so seriously that I am going to tell you about something that's been a problem since you were born. Something so devastating that mommy has been afraid to address it since you came to live with us. When I talk about it - she says I'm being unfair. Hurtful even. And that hurts me.

Jill please know that I don't say this to upset you...

You are a Bobble-Head.

I knew the moment you were born that something wasn't quite right. Your head wobbled around seemingly unattached from your body. We have to hold it upright whenever we move you around. It's just...Gosh, I'm finding it hard to talk about even now...I just - wow - let me get my bearings here...the words are getting blurry.

Ok, I think I'm alright...I just don't want this to effect your life in any way. It's starting to get better don't get me wrong. The doctors say you're condition will improve, but...I just...

It's too much.

I love you...so much,

Daddy

~~~~~~~

Dear Jill,

Seriously in trouble now. Mommy was not amused by my last entry. When you learn to talk if you could please let her know that you thought this was funny that'd be great. Thank you.

Love,

Daddy

~~~~~~~

Dear Jill,

You're sick. As we sit waiting for your doctor, I'm really annoyed that it's taking so long. Mommy called me over the phone to tell me she thought you were sick and I have to tell you, I couldn't think of anything but - she can't be sick. She's a baby. She's new and fresh and perfect. But you're sneezing and it's both cute and terrifying at the same time. And when I put my lips against your forehead like my mom used to do to me (still tries) you are burning up. That is the scariest part. I don't like that you're that warm.

I know being sick is ok - I know it's actually building up antibodies that will make you stronger. But still...you're miserable.

We don't like this. Get better

I love you,

Daddy

~~~~~~~

Dear Sweet Jill,

You're back! This morning when I woke up and went into your bedroom you were smiling up at your mobile and batting around bear. Your eyes looked sparkly and you turned towards me when I said good morning. No more germ invasion. That's the way mommy and I like it!

Mommy says she took you to the park today and you loved it. Sometimes it bums me out when I can't be around for things like that. Daddy's busy bringing home the bacon. Oh well...we'll go again this weekend. You're well!

Love you more than bear,

Daddy

~~~~~~~

Dear Jill,

This weekend was so much fun with you. Mommy gave us quite a bit of time to ourselves and I have to say you are such a fun girl! We watched some B-ball together, we went to a party at g-ma's. You were pretty in pink and smiled at all my jokes. It was one of the best dates I've ever had.

I think I've figured out which face it is that gets you going. Whenever I scrunch my eyebrows and pull one side of my mouth to the side you flip out. I'm almost as entertaining as Cooey now - no worries, I'm not offended by my status. I am confident that one of these days I will officially upstage Cooey - maybe.

Spending the weekend with you just showed me all the cool things you're learning though. You're rolling over, you're doing pretty well holding your own bottle. You're making a lot of sounds that are quite possibly the cutest things I've ever heard. You charmed all of g-ma's friends.

In love,

Daddy

~~~~~~~

Dear Jill,

There are things that I have to do for you, but I don't want you to ever think they are your fault. Years from now, if I come home complaining about my job - that I hate selling paper and everything that goes along with selling paper - Mommy will say (because at this point she's bound to be tired of my whining if she's put up with it for 20 years or whatever), ‘I told you a thousand times -quit!' and I'll say something stupid like ‘Pam, I have a family to support.' If those words ever come out of my mouth in your presence, know that staying at Dunder-Mifflin has been and is my own choice. Your mom isn't making me. You're not making me. I'm making me because I'm scared of what else might be out there. There. I admit it.

I'm good at it. I am, and I know that. I'm so good at selling paper in fact that I've been offered another promotion. They've realized that Jim Halpert can sell paper to just about anyone without even trying. This sounds unbelievably cocky but it's true. It's always been true. What's even truer though is that I'm scared shitless of a challenge (yes I said shit. My first curse word in your journal - I felt it was artistically necessary). I'm scared that as I move up any further in this company (yes it's become my career...gah) they'll realize that I don't really have any specific strategy or technique (unless I'm with Dwight....Wow, first Dwight reference too - sorry about that) and they'll see that it's all instinct. Instinct only takes you so far Jill. You have to use other things too. Strategy, etc. Anyway, daddy's scared and he made a real ass out of himself tonight with mommy when she tried to celebrate my promotion.

It sucks. You don't suck.

You are the supreme opposite of suckage.

I love you,

Daddy

~~~~~~~

Dear Jill,

You gave mommy and me such a big scare today when you hit your head on the coffee table. Evil coffee table is going on the No-Jill list as of now. We'll just put pillows in middle of the living room or something. That's comfy.

I love you more than all the leaves in all the trees,

Daddy

~~~~~~~

Dear Jill,

Isn't mommy a good artist? I flip through these pages sometimes and think about how lucky you are to have her as a mommy. How lucky we both are. Seriously, look at the tree on the page before - that's amazing. I love mommy.

Love,

Daddy

~~~~~~~

Dear Jill,

Wow...I was in the grocery store today and I heard an eight year old ask his mom where babies come from. Literally eight. It got me to thinking that one day you might ask me something similar and of course I'll lie. No...I don't mean that. I'll tell you the truth.

In fact I'll be brutally honest. Basically I'll point to the fact that when two people really love each other they get together, go down to a beet farm and choose the best possible beet they can find. Once that's done, they replant the beet. Why replant the beet once it's already been...horticultured, you ask? Well it's complicated and...beautiful. The two people who again - love each other soooo much - replant the beet in firm soil, water it...and over a period of 9 months allow the beet to grow. During the beets time in the ground it literally turns into a baby. It's...it's the most miraculous thing you've ever seen.

Your mom and I got you from a beet farm not too far away. One day when you're older and you read this, you can talk to Dwight about it. He'll be able to tell you even more about Baby Beets.

I hope you appreciate my honesty. It was hard, but something that I think you had every right to know.

Your progressive daddy,

Jim

~~~~~~~

Dear Jill,

You said something today that really sounded like daddy it was like ‘daaah'. I know, I know...you're not talking yet. I know that. But still, I gasped like a little girl (no offense) when it happened. Just a head's up - if you say my name first I'll buy you a car.

Seriously, you think Mommy's gonna make you an offer like that? Come on.

Love you the most,

Daddy

~~~~~~~

Dear Jill,

Shut up! You crawled today...like for a few seconds. You pushed yourself up totally, like you've been trying to do for weeks now and suddenly you were crawling! Mommy dangled a pudding cup in front of you (cruel but effective) to try and keep you going. And then mommy actually had to give you the chocolate pudding. It was awesome. You crawling and mommy giving in - both awesome.

I realize that our excitement was probably what made you wipe-out. We were jumping around and then suddenly you were flat on your face...sorry - that of course was captured on videotape. Mommy says we should show it to all potential suitors. I said - what suitors? Also I suggested that she stop reading novels from the 1800's.

Did you know when you were inside mommy that your parents would be such dorks? I bet you didn't. If you had, maybe you would have moved to some other womb...I don't know. Sure glad you picked us though. You're funny - we love funny around here.

Good times here at Casa del Halpert.

Love,

Daddy

~~~~~~~

Dear Jill,

You can barely speak but you're trying to read. Again - we know you are a genius. Mommy was sitting with you on the couch earlier and reading you a story. Whenever she would stop reading you would try and pick up where she left off, making all these babbling noises as mommy moved her fingers across the words. You're a smart cookie.

Smart and beautiful. I think I'm gonna have a rough time of things when you get older. Seriously I'm not the kind of guy that people imagine sitting in his lazy boy with a Louiville slugger in his hands ready to take on your potential suiters. That's just not me, but I'll tell you what - the idea that one day you'll be walking and talking and going about things completely on your own makes me think seriously about breaking out in hives and buying a bat.

At the park the other day this boy baby was checking you out. I almost pushed him out of his stroller.

That's probably not a good sign.

Love you more than all other boys,

Daddy

~~~~~~~

Dear Jill,

I missed you so much! I officially hate business trips. Michael was bugging the crap out of me and all I could think about was getting home to you and mommy. I called you every night though - in case you don't remember. You're very interesting on the phone. Riveting really. That discussion on global warming...interesting perspective on it having something to do with what goes on inside your diaper. We could try publishing...You contact Gore. I'll get you an agent.

Also, just so you know I put up with tons of ridicule because of our conversations. Apparently I'm "whipped" - whatevs. Michael and Dwight at a...Hmm, wait...Wow - how does one talk about strip clubs to his daughter? ...Anyway, strip malls with Michael and Dwight are not fun. They're actually not fun just in general....ok, moving on.

You're cute over the phone. Cuter in person.

Love,

Daddy

Dear Jill,

The last 24 hours have been crazy. I was away for Uncle Marc's bachelor party and something really bad happened. Someone tried to break into the apartment. We don't know who yet. But you and mommy were alone here. It's gotta be somebody that knew that I wasn't going to be around and that freaks me the hell out because I just keep thinking they could come back.

Mommy said that she heard someone jerking on the door and she came really close to opening it because she thought maybe I'd decided to come home early and had lost my key in some drunken stupor or something (not that daddy gets plastered a lot, but it was a bachelor party). But she just froze in front of the door - something just told her that it wasn't me. She went and got you from your crib, grabbed her cell phone and then locked the both of you inside our bedroom. She heard the window break in the living room and then suddenly everything stopped....

Talking about it right now - even though I've heard her recount the story to the cops several times today, is making me want to vomit.

Anyway, I'm really tired because I've been trying to figure this all out with the cops. It seems that whoever it was got frightened away because of some sirens down the street.

That's it. That's the only reason they decided to stop trying to get in here. To stop trying to get to you, or mommy, or the stereo or whatever the hell else...

That is just...unacceptable. I know - weird word, but it's all I can think of. It's all I can do not to jump out of my skin over this. Nothing bad can happen to you or mommy. Ever.

Writing this, it's one of the few times I've put you down all day. You and me and mommy - all day long. I think I'm taking tomorrow off too. I'm never leaving the apartment again. I'm going to drive mommy crazy, but that's ok.

So glad you're ok.

Love,

Daddy

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