Every time you have a baby the chances are 50/50 right? I mean in terms of what kind of baby you end up with.
And we all know (although King Henry VIII did not) that men determine baby's gender, right?
So, shouldn't it stand to reason that regardless of the fact that all my children thus far are BOYS that it is indeed possible that this baby would be a girl?
Why does this thought tend to make me quake into the depths of my soul?
It's not that I don't WANT a girl or WANT a boy. I do, I'd take either. Honest.
But see, I *know* boys.
Being a girl, you'd think I'd *know* girls too.
But I don't.
I am not entirely sure I'm equipped to handle the D-R-A-M-A that accompanies small females into this life. Henry is my kid for drama. I can barely handle HIS.
I am so deeply entrenched in super heros and airplanes, cars and dirt that the idea of pink and lacy makes VERY nervous.
If this baby is a boy, then we'll just carry on as always.
If it's girl, we'll just carry on as always as well. Just with pink.
See why this is so weird to me? If you're the mother of both genders, I imagine it's strange to hear me lament as such. But if you've got just one or the other, you feel me, right?
Either way, tomorrow, assuming baby #4 is cooperative, we'll know. And I can start getting used to whatever is coming. We're thrilled regardless. It'll just be nice to know.
Squishy best be showing the goods, or Squishy is grounded.