Daddy's Boy

I was thrilled when we found out we were going to be having a boy. I will admit that I kind of wanted a boy to come first, to help watch over his little sister. Girls have the ability to be strong-willed and independent, which is my preference, but I thought that somehow, an older brother could be protective. It's worked out though; I love my little girl, and I have no doubt that with a little guidance, she'll be able to take care of herself. And Matthew has always said he doesn't care about the sex of the baby. If our second was a girl, he would have been just as pleased. In all honestly, I was expecting a girl (partially because I loved our girl name) and didn't really believe the ultrasound tech until she bluntly stated "Girls don't have testicles". Thanks for clearing that up.

But, we got our boy. When I was knowledgeably pregnant with our daughter, I remember seeing a man come into the store with his son. The boy, about seven, was dressed up for a baseball game, and they were getting some bottled water for the hot day. It was a quick, innocent exchange, as they went about their mission. The boy held a toy up for his father to approve or deny; the father said "no, let's get going" in a quiet voice, and he was obeyed. They seemed happy together, symbiotic. And it probably wasn't anything special to them... There was something very iconic about seeing them together like that--a man and his son going to play some baseball. Sure, girls can play sports, but we need more. We are more chaotic when we go places in groups (even very small groups in very non-interesting places). We are whirlwinds of noise and attention stirring up the calm of anywhere...just by being. And, this is true. Even a simple solo errand requires browsing and deciding and questioning; there is no quick in and out for girls. I don't mean to be stereotypical; girls just have a different air about them. A man heading to a game with his daughter would not have been so peaceful (not that boys are always peaceful). She would have been skipping and chattering, and even though they would have been just as happy together as the two I saw, something about this pair made me want desperately to give my husband a son. To let him teach a boy how to be a good man. And we have this opportunity now.

On a very related note (how strange--no wild tangents??): this Olympic-diver fetus I have practicing in mah belly loves his Daddy already. He's a mover and a shaker (see former posts regarding lack of movement and a frightened Mommy). Aurelia was a big somersaulter too; always something better in the other corner of my uterus. She had the hiccups all the time. But this kid is frikin' strong! I can see him bump me from the inside out, and when he does, it moves whatever object I have sitting on my stomach--yes, I generally have objects sitting my stomach (insert shame). Now, when this happens, I rush to show Matt or grasp for his hand to place over the squirming kid. With Aurelia, she would stop as soon as he was looking or feeling, especially feeling. He felt her kick, sure. But he had to keep his hand there for awhile and he got one, maybe two kicks to the palm. The boy loves having Daddy's hand over him. He goes to town as soon as it's placed there. I smile whenever Matt and I feel it at the same time, my inside to his out, and he says whoa and let's out a little laugh.

His boy is strong, and I think he's glad (secretly) to be having a son.