Sex

Like I'd talk about that, you pervs.

My sister-in-law Jen and her boyfriend Jason had a barbecue tonight. Our friends Claire and Ethan came with William, their three-month-old.

William is like a football with limbs and a head, the perfect size to chill with on your lap while eating a kabob. I pondered stealing him, but where would we go?

I'm excited to learn the sex of our child. We need a pronoun to use besides it. Then again, you always hear about the parents whose doctor says it'll be a girl, but months later out pops a boy. So the boy has to sleep in a pink crib and wear pink onesies. When he learns to talk he says, "Mama, why pink?"

"Well Billy, because your manhood was so small and underdeveloped during the ultrasound, everyone thought you were a girl."

And then issues, ladies and gentlemen. Lots of issues. So I'm excited to learn the sex, but I hope the ultrasound is one of those without-a-doubt ultrasounds, like "My GOODNESS, you're having a boy."

Not that I'm dead-set on a boy. Sure, I want a little football baby like William, but I'd take a little princess, too, a daddy's girl whose boyfriends would fear me--because I'll tell you what I'll do on June 13th if we find out it's a girl. I'll start lifting weights. Seriously. If it's a girl, I'm bulking up so all the boys in her class know what's what.