Yesterday we found out we are expecting a boy, to the excitement and glee of my husband. When the ultrasound technician pointed out the obvious (see photos in previos post), the husband leapt off the ground, arms extended in the touchdown fashion screaming "yeah, yes, whoo hoo, yes, yes, yes". From the sounds he was making I could only hope the couple waiting in the lobby weren't confusing the ultrasound office for the fertility clinic down the hall.

I know its only just begun, the references to boners, farts, boogers...For the rest of my life, body parts and functions will be the makings of hilarity. I better arm myself with the right tools, fake dog poop, a whoopi cushion and a BB gun. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em...and then beat 'em!

Hubby can't wipe the grin from his face. Now he has someone to play XBox with...someone who will grow into an appropriate age range for online games, unlike his father who is staring down his 40th birthday this year, XBox controller in one hand, and a Wii scribbled on the top of his Xmas list clenched in the other. Since we found out we are expecting my husband has put in his order for a mini me with a big pee pee.

I knew that if we came out of the ultrasound yesterday with a girl, he'd be happy just knowing it was a healthy baby and my ass hasn't spread wide enough to fold over the exam table (more on the great weight watch later). I have this theory, which is actually has more credence than a theory, which I think makes it a proof. Anyway, as I see it, my husband's hesitance in embracing the idea of having a daughter stems from his self image as a 20-something kissing bandit, stealing affections and broken hearts from beautiful and not so beautiful girls across the Pacific Northwest. The bottom line is, he fancied himself quite the Casanova before I took him down and beat him into marriage, submission. Because he seems himself as a womanizer, he didn't want a daughter to worry about. He didn't want to think about her meeting up with the likes of him. He'd rather create and foster the likes of him in the form of mini me.

I have to laugh. Part of me hoped for a girl, because I knew I would raise her to say things like "go fuck yourself" to guys who were simply wanting to introduce themselves to her but after a quick discerning once over that all prudish girls have perfected, she'd know he wasn't up to par. I liked the thought of raising a daughter who would accept a first date with a qualified candidate and suggest a waterfront jog as their first encounter...only to kick his ass over 8miles of hilly terrain. Oh, you want to take my daughter on a ski weekend with your frat...she'll meet your sorry ass in the first aid cabin at the end of the day.

A boy or a tom-boy, I am going to get my athlete either way. Now, if the kid wants to dance and paint pretty pictures...I'll be in a support group of some kind or another. I wonder if we can train Murphy the super dog to hold an XBox controller between his webbed paws.