oh boy! oh boy! oh boy?

Dear vitamin sucking fetus.

You should be a boy. It is in your best interest to be a boy. For the love of god, please be a boy.

We need a practice child. An easy first try. A down and dirty, dog water slobber drinking first rounder that we can’t mess up too much. Boys don’t hold as many grudges. Boys aren’t nearly as dramatic. I find they are less likely to be scarred for life from three or sixteen parental mishaps.

But shit. Girls on the other hand? Especially ones containing MY genes? No. Bad idea for a first round draft choice. We would never hear the end of how tragic her childhood was. And man. Help me if she’s prissy in the slightest.

...and kitty cat tails...

Not only that, we’re stumped on naming and decorating and all that shit if it’s female. Boy name? EASY. Done. Already mapped out. Room decor? DONE. Vision solid in my noggin. After school activity? DONE. No complaining, you’re going to play baseball. HE CAN PICK UP THE DOG CRAP IN SEVEN YEARS!! MOW THE LAWN IN ELEVEN!!

I didn’t mow a lawn until last year. I was 29.

So. Child One. Be male. Besides, it’ll be way better for you this way. Someday, you could have a little sister to pick on. And that seems to be the highlight of male childhood. Trust me. I know from experience. She’ll haaaate it. And you’ll find joy in every one of her little tears.

Don’t disobey your mother, little one.

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