Instead of thinking about produce I’m trying to focus on how excited we are to finally find out who Baby Cillo is. I’m back on the fence about whether it’s a boy or a girl. I just can’t tell this time. It’s definitely not Baby Jake. But it could be a gentle boy, like his daddy. People have also been especially talkative when I’m out and about these days. Either that or I’m looking more approachable than usual. A run-down of the latest guesses:
The Chinese Baby Gender Predictor (http://www.thelaboroflove.com/chart/pred.html) says it’s a girl. It said Jake was a girl.
During my last week of work, in the parking lot, I was hugged by an older Mexican nanny who’s daughter works at Specialty’s. She said it’s a boy, practically kissed my stomach, and gave me a hug goodbye.
In Pizza Antica’s women’s restroom am elderly Eastern European lady declared it a boy, threw her paper towel away and left.
At Trader Joe’s, the mother of two daughters chatted me up while her husband stood quietly in the background. She decided “boy” and wished me luck.
Jill’s mom, Laurie, is in the girl camp. Her husband, Andy, is surprisingly confident in his “boy” prediction.
I’m totally undecided which is not like me. It’s probably because some scientists just decided that the astrological signs are different and are trying to switch me from my highly decisive Libra, to an indecisive Virgo.
What am I sure of?
I’m ready to reconvert my body into an owner-occupied dwelling. OK, “mini” watermelon? This is your official eviction notice. I love you. Get out here. I mean it.