Goof-around time

You must be relieved to be reading this, as it means I did not get shot at the gun range. Actually, I should say that of all the places you could go on an average day, the gun range is where you are least likely to be shot. Lots of rules, very well-regulated--and a ton of fun, believe it or not. And I'm not a bad shot either. My human silhouette target is deader than disco.

On an unrelated note (thank goodness), I'm really glad we're having a girl. Now, if it sprouts a weiner in the next four months, it's not like I'll mourn it. Mourning the Weiner will not be the title of my fatherhood memoir.

Although that would fly off the shelves.

No, see a girl is better because throughout her childhood, Julie will want to take her shopping all the time. That'll be expensive, but it'll also mean that I won't have to give up hobbies like video games, poker, Legos (shut up), and doing the crossword at Starbucks.

I'm not saying that my hobbies are exclusively boy hobbies and that all girls like to do is go to Banana Republic. But the chances of me having an occasional Saturday to goof around increase with a daughter. With a son, Julie would be like, "Well, I'm going to Banana Republic, so you boys can clean the rain gutters."

Wait, maybe I need a little buddy to clean the rain gutters.

No, here it is:

"Daughter? Oh Daughter?"
"Yes, Father?"
"Clean the rain gutters before you and your mother leave."
"Gladly, Father! Newspaper?"
"Indeed!"

Clearly I have it all figured out.