XY*

My worries of starting to lactate and/or menstruate have been officially laid to rest.  The oncoming storm is to be a bouncing young boy, hereafter to be referred to as “Squirt.”

Thank God.

Hopefully, there wasn’t a huge misreading of the ultrasound, especially given what I am about to say.

I would like to state that I don’t think I can exactly say I would have been just as happy if the Squirt had turned out to be a Squirtette, but I can say that had the Dot and Lump both been XY’s, I’d have been pulling for this one to be an XX.  I don’t think I could handle 3 or either genotype.  

And right or wrong, there are certain aspects to having a son.

For one thing, there’s just something about passing on your family name.  From a clinical, detached point of view, I’m not sure why.  The genes get passed down either way, but for whatever reason it’s important, it is.

And now my father now has 2 chances to pass on the family name.  Given the accident-prone nature of our lineage, it’s always best to have a back-up.

Plus, there are just certain things that a father can do with a son.  Like go to the garage once a month to flee three sets of ovaries work on the jeep.

Not that I would be opposed to the Dot or the Lump learning about auto work.  In fact, I intend to help them restore their first cars, as long as they choose a classic Jeep, early model Bronco, classic Toyota FJ, or VW Thing.  It’s not that I’m choosy, I just want to instill good taste and keep my children from going over 50 mph.

Who needs a nanny chip when you have 33” wheels?

This also frees me from attempting to make one or more of my girls into a rough-and-tumble tomboy.  Now when we have tea parties, I don’t have to feel I need to take them to a demolition derby to balance things out.  Girls, thank your brother someday for that.

On top of all that, there's the relatively insignificant fact that the Squirt’s name has been picked out since before the Beloved and I tied the proverbial knot, and it would have been a shame to waste such a great name.

So here’s to a Y chromosome to have a beer with someday and say “Man, women are crazy.”



*Part of my backlog; started several weeks ago.