Dear Oblivia

I do not know your gender. At this point, neither do you, and that is fine with both of us, I am quite sure. I know nothing about your chromosomes either. Judging by the fact that you have made it this far, I am guessing they are a bit more standard than the set we handed to Lucifer, on the morning of 6/6/6, because Lucifer was a short-term visit to this world and you seem destined to stay a bit longer. Whatever they are, those chromosomes of yours, I am cool with them. You are a product of evolution, and your existence is an attempt by our species to explore the whole world of evolutionary options open to it. Without such experiments, a whole array of sudden macroevolutionary changes would be impossible, so such things must be. I hear there are polyploid salamanders, and I carry a polyploid strawberry in the pocket of my coat, food for our brother, the skink, its own species on a path to evolutionary destiny.
Whomever you are, you have a telencephalon. That strange bulge at the end of the spinal column, destined to grow into an organ of incredible complexity and delight, is at its onset. There has been a primitive streak, some time between our trip to the waterfalls of the Columbia River gorge and our numerous cups of Stumptown coffee, I imagine. I like to think the coffee helped you along. Perhaps, if things go well for you, you will discover coffee yourself. Coffee, Cafea arabica, our sister in the honeysuckle family, who produces such wonderful alkaloids, on its own evolutionary path to greatness.
Limb buds, you have them. And a tail. And gill pouches. Design-wise, you are fit for swimming, and ideally suited to develop into a lamprey, or was that two weeks ago? Already, those limb buds have pegged you as a tetrapod, and if things go well, perhaps you might use them to play piano, smoke pot, or at the very least, discover the delights of touching things. I do not know who you are or what you are destined to become, but in a sense, I already love you, and am grateful for the changes you have brought to my life. I was grateful for Lucifer, temporary and inconvenient visitor that he was, but this time, there is talk of modifying the dining room for other uses.
You are a sensible embryo. You induce the consumption of almond butter. You demand a great deal of sedentary time on the couch, watching season after season of Deadwood episodes, you prefer that your host eat fresh fruit, sleep copiously, and walk around with a certain, undefinable glow.
It is raining today, out here, and there are tulips. The process of educating people is winding down now, and like a weaver bird, I am building a nest for you.