Three. After heading to the doctor to find out what we were having, it turns out (and I apologized to my wife literally a split-second after finding out) … we’re having another BOY. She openly […]
Three. After heading to the doctor to find out what we were having, it turns out (and I apologized to my wife literally a split-second after finding out) … we’re having another BOY. She openly admits to wanting a girl, but she married into the wrong family for that to be a likelihood. My paternal grandmother had three sons, my father has two sons, my uncle has two sons, and my brother has one son. That’s six out of a possible six sons. The Y chromosome is strong.
While I’d have been thrilled either way, after watching the two boys play “volcano” with boundless energy in the hallway for 45 minutes the other day, I said to my wife that I wanted a girl. Volcano, for those uninformed, comprises of filling a wicker hamper with all their toys and tipping it over, repeatedly, steady laughter ensuing immediately. It fills me with happiness and the hallway with too many toys.
Three boys, holy crud. I’m still trying to process this. Good friends of ours living in NYC have three girls while other friends of mine down in Atlanta have three boys. Another friend of ours, in Long Island, had two girls and are now expecting a boy. L was hoping for the latter, in reverse order, but instead she’s destined to be a Boy Mom!
There are people out there who might think I am crazy for wanting a daughter, their rationale being that during the teenage years things might get a little crazy. Listen, both produce a shared set of worries as well as a unique set of worries; you take the good with the bad. Boys are easier than girls in that once potty trained, boys have zero issue peeing outside in the event there is no bathroom nearby. From what I’m told, and already experienced with two boys, the house will (continue to be) a crazy (crazier?) house because one thing my boys are never short on is energy.
Little kids, little problems. I’m going to enjoy them while they’re young, impressionable and still (sometimes) listen to us.
Unfortunately for N, Chalk Darcy Peacock will not be the name for his youngest brother, though Chalk is more likely than not a boy’s name. I’m sure there are people who’ve named their boy Chalk, but we won’t be joining the ranks. Time to step away, until tomorrow.
We’ve given it some more thought, over the past week, and still don’t like any names. We’re no longer in favor of ones we’ve previously liked and refuse to name him anything too popular. I’m not going to divulge names here, but we’ve got a few we don’t hate—and we’ve got another five months before the kid really needs a name, anyway.
By the time you read this, Thanksgiving has come and gone, we’ve officially told our family and friends that we’re expecting another boy. I’ll let you know the reactions next week. I’m sure there’ll be some who wanted the first Darcy granddaughter, but I am not in the business of appeasing everyone.