Boy. Boy #3, otherwise known as Baby X. I think I already knew it was a boy–I kept envisioning three little tiny boys in red print bathing suits running around on a beach, and I’m pretty sure they were all my kids. I wish I knew all their names, though, that would help, as I’m at a loss for what to call Baby X. I would love suggestions. Oh, and he’ll need a super-secret blog name as well, I guess.
(Martin is really J., by the way, and Chris is actually J. Martin and Chris are their blog names, mostly because of the thrill “Martin” gets from knowing that I’m calling them after his favorite creature-adventurers: the incomparable Martin and Chris Kratt. Also because I felt a little unsure of a preschooler’s legal expectation of privacy, particularly when it’s a given that at some point, his mother will be telling stories to the universe about some sort of toilet-related behavior. I also hedged at the last minute at posting the ultrasound picture that showed, in shockingly explicit detail, precisely why this baby was defined as a “boy.” I felt a little guilty at possibly humiliating him like that.)
(Oh, and I will save for another time the slightly panicked feelings that I’m having–too early–about how I’m going to do this. Have a third (third??!! Oh, crap!!!) baby, that is. That doesn’t seem like a welcoming caption under a baby’s first appearance–as a recognizable human being, at least–to the world.)
(And, also, I will save for later how likely it is that someone will eventually get a smack in line at the coffee shop for making a not-cute-even-though-they-think-it-is remark about having a third boy and how it’s too bad it’s not a girl…. Time enough for that unpleasantness.)
