If all goes well tomorrow, Michele and I will know the sex of our baby.

The last time we were at the doc the kid refused to uncross its legs, modestly protecting its goods. I’m hoping for at least a brief moment of exhibitionism tomorrow.

Michele (and everyone else) has asked me repeatedly whether I’d prefer a boy, girl, or some interesting mix of the two, and I always give the answer they least desire.

The truth is that I really don’t care. I can see pros and cons to both. Boys are retarded assholes and girls are moody, manipulative psychopaths.

Either way, I’m sure the kid will be a blast.

I’m excited to see a the sonar image of the little thing tomorrow. I had my first feel of a kick (or punch) last night. Michele had a bit too much sugar and the kid tried to punch his/her way out. Luckily, my hand was there to stop it.