Thursday, October 25th, 2007
Twentieth Week Ultrasound Update: We See Dangly Boy Parts
We learned yesterday that our baby due in March is a boy. As our 3-year-old daughter says, the baby has “dangly boy parts.” She said “it doesn’t matter” that he’s a boy instead of a girl because she’s looking forward to being a big sister.
This was a routine 20th week ultrasound, and no problems from Fifth Disease were noted, though this level of sonogram would only notice a major problem.
The kid is a bit akimbo in the image with his legs bent open; it helps to see the live moving image to understand his orientation.
I tell you, I am downright disappointed. Having a boy messes everything up.
First, I’ve been chipping away at my wife’s obstinate, narrow-minded resistance to naming the baby after that famous flying Japanese turtle known as the defender and friend of all children. Gamera is a great name, and works for a boy or girl. But my wife hates it, so I’ve been telling her we would informally call the kid Gammy. And as you know, Gammy is a girl’s name.
Second, my wife likes the name Wesley. I don’t think Will Wheaton would even name a kid Wesley. Ignore the Wesley Crusher issue with the requisite “Put Wesley in the airlock” jokes. The name still strikes me as feminine, I suppose because it rhymes with Leslie. On the other hand, I should be thankful we’re not having a girl because her other favored name was Willamina.
Third, I fear that diaper changes will be more dangerous than they were with my daughter because you never know if the pistol is loaded.
Fourth, I’m on the hook for taking a greater part as a role model
for potty procedures. My wife can’t urinate standing up, and
she once asked me if boys dab themselves after peeing. She
probably doesn’t know about shrinkage, either.
Fifth, most of the clothes we’ve been saving for years are useless.
I’ll dress the boy in pink pajamas, but not denim pants with pink
hearts. Why on Earth do clothing manufacturers have to genderize the
most basic of clothing elements? I’m looking for a reason other than,
“To milk you dumb parents out of every last penny.”
So, here is our closet.
Incidentally, for the box labels I used the Gamera font, complete with an image of a giant turtle ripping apart a Japanese train. For some reason my wife was not impressed.