Dear Blue Ivy Carter (or whatever your name ends up being),
Hi, welcome to the world! We’ve never actually met, though I did say hello to your dad at that Grizzly Bear show a couple years ago (he kind of nodded back to me), and one time I was in the same room as your mom, so I feel like I’m in a pretty good position to be speaking directly to you right now.
Anyway, you are just a few days old and, as such, probably not all that familiar with the way things work, but I figured I’d let you in on a little secret: You are very famous, and you are probably always going to be. Shoot, you’ve already landed your first feature , and it’s better than anything Lourdes Leon has ever done. You are the First Daughter of Hip Hop, not to mention the actual Destiny’s Child. And given all that, you childhood is going to be a little unorthodox: You will undoubtedly be the subject of creepy fashion spreads in gossip mags (just ask Suri) and you will definitely never get to go to a Chuck E. Cheese or anything. Sorry in advance. But honestly, Chuck E. Cheese isn’t that great anyway. You’re not missing much.
On the flipside, being famous is really, really great. You will get to go to any preschool your little heart desires, you can have anything you want for lunch and you could probably play point guard for the Nets once Deron Williams leaves. I can’t even begin to imagine what your first birthday party will be like, but I hope I’m invited to it. You will be afforded the kinds of opportunities we mere mortals can only dream of; yours will be a life unlike most. It goes hand-in-hand with being a celebrity at age zero — sure, you’ll probably be assigned a security detail as soon as you’re able to walk, but, really, it’s a small price to pay for the unlimited possibilities of fame.
But here’s the thing: I hope you never actually act like you’re famous. You are, despite all evidence to the contrary, just another human being. No more, no less. As you get older, try to follow Louis C.K.’s advice: Don’t be an a–hole. A lot of this will be up to your parents, which is a good thing, since they seem to be two of the more grounded folks on the planet, despite being multimillionaires who own part of an NBA franchise. They certainly know the value of hard work (maybe don’t ask your dad about said “hard work” in his early days, though), and neither of them has ever forgotten where they came from. Which is why you should probably listen to them, no matter what — even if they refuse to let you rent out Privé for your first ballet recital. Trust me, it’s for your own good.
Because, really, I hope you grow up to be your own person, that you follow your own muse and be happy and well-adjusted. You don’t even have to be a celebrity; you could be a teacher or a scientist or a social worker. In fact, maybe you should — they’re all more honorable professions. But if you want to follow in your parents’ footsteps, that’s fine too; I just hope that when I’m 50 and interview you on some red carpet, I will be relieved to discover that you are a very nice person. I have a feeling you probably will be. You have good role models in that regard. Oh, and please tell your mom and dad congratulations for me.
So good luck with your life. It’s going to be a wild, wonderful thing. I look forward to seeing how you turn out, and I get the feeling I’m not the only one. I know you’ve got a busy sleeping/eating schedule ahead of you, so I’ll let you get back to it. But before I go, let me leave you with one last piece of advice: Whatever you do, try not to listen to Uncle Kanye. That guy’s nuts.
Any more advice for Blue Ivy Carter? Let us know in the comments!