Dear Roy Carney,
You don't know me yet, even though you've heard my voice at various times throughout the past nine months. You have no clue how much we all already love you. I'm sure I'll write many things about and to you over the next years of your life, but right now I need to ask you a very important question.
You and your parents stopped by my house this evening to pick something up. Actually, your parents came, you were just along for the ride. As they were leaving I told them I think tonight is the night you'll come. So, I was wondering, could you go ahead and arrive tonight? I've always wanted to be a prophet, and this could be just the start I need.
Plus, how cool would it be when you are hanging around fifteen or twenty years from now talking about your birth, if part of the story would be that your parent's friend Craig predicted you would come that night, and you did. You could tell it to your grand kids, and then I'd live on in infamy for years to come.
So, if you go ahead and do this for me, I'd appreciate it. I'll buy you a beer when you turn the appropriate age.