Its A Girl, Probably

I had the first ultrasound yesterday. Everything is fine, my bloodpressure is down and stable-ish, and we're very very probably having a girl. Yea! Now I'll have a matched set, the girls can share a room which will be good for Cassie's character, and all the hand-me down dresses won't be wasted. (We have a ridiculous number of incredibly attractive "Sunday" dresses because my Mother is weak-willed and so are her sisters who think Cassie's fondness for girly-clothes is charming.)

We had to take all the children with us to the ultrasound because the baby-sitter cancelled. I was a little hesitant, but then it turns out my husband had already been explaining that the baby was in my tummy (although he did NOT discuss how it had gotten there)! The boys thought this might be the coolest thing they had ever gotten to see. Not the baby, but the nifty camera that lets you see inside people. I'm pretty sure we're raising tech-geeks (and I mean that in the nicest possible way)!

Their excitement led to a babble of chatter as they asked their father question upon question upon question. Why is it in black-n-white? Is that all the baby can see? What about the gel? Does the gel create an invisible barrier? I can't see the monitor because Mommy's too fat! How does it get air? And food? And water? Does the baby get sick when Mommy gets sick?

My husband answered all the questions, one by one. Offering simple logical explanations. Then he got to the question about food and water. He plowed ahead explaining that there was a tube that connected the baby to the mommy so that food and water went straight into the baby's stomach. They had questions about the construction of the tube, what it was made of, etc. In response to the newly generated flow of questions, my husband explained that the tube is attached until the baby comes out and then it comes off because the baby doesn't need it anymore, and thats where your belly-button comes from -- its where the tube used to be before it came off.

Stunned silence. Blinking eyes. Mouths hanging agape. Dubious glances at their own tummies. Still ... nothing. Silence. Finally, Lee slowly and precisely utters ... "Thats a joke, right?"

It was definitely a case of TMI (too much information), but who would have thought they'd freak over their own bellybuttons!?!

Waves

ROFLOL! That's just too funny!

My kids never know when to believe dh because he can tell them such amazing stories with a totally straight face.

But he can also be boringly technical. The other day, my 10yo ds asked him a question, and as he started to answer, 12yo dd said, "Not the history of it dad, just the short version, we have things to do."

LOL!

Leni | 07/07/2005 - 10:03 PM
 
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