Our first baby photographer was great. Look at that profile. Unfortunately, I do not have detailed photos of the legs, but let me assure you that this kid will be playing soccer. Those quads were made for kicking. And squatting, obviously.
Who would have thought that I would be the kind of person who throws a gender reveal party? I mean, really… But, on the other hand, I love drama just enough to make a big deal out of pretty much everything. A cause for a celebration? Sign me up. In other news, I have been known to celebrate my late August birthday well into October. Because why not? [Technically, it should be “sex reveal party”, but that just sounds like… another kind of party, you know?].
Speaking of drama, this girl was a nervous wreck. The one with killer legs and weird tan lines (cough… damn cyclists!), not the one with round belly. Why, you ask? Because she was the designated knower – the only person who KNEW what the result actually was, and who was responsible for securing all the appropriately coloured party supplies. She kept her mouth closed like a fish (that doesn’t make sense….) for weeks. And I didn’t make it easy.
Our sample text exchange would go like this:
Me: “Sooo… did you order the reveal canons yet?” Her: “Yep, ordered them.” Me: “What colour are they? 😈” Her: “Yellow. That’s what you wanted, right?”
We followed all the scientific evidence to try and determine the sex of the baby.
We read out clues – like what side does the mom sleep on? (left!), and whether the dad has been gaining weight too (nope!).
We examined photographic evidence.
Performed the ancient ring test. [I still don’t know what it said.]
And, of course, ate cupcakes.
Now, that YOU have all the information (ha!), are you…
“I have seen your bump, and you carry low/high/big/small/other arbitrary characteristic, so it’s definitely a boy!”
“I have seen your bump, and you carry low/high/big/small/other arbitrary characteristic, so it’s definitely a girl!”.
“Everyone knows that it’s impossible tell someone’s chromosomal make-up from a photo, and I am no fun, and refuse to vote”.
“I already know, and omg, so excited for you, terrified for you! You will have so much fun, you are so screwed. Bahahah. No, seriously”.
“I vote puppy”.
By the way, the fam voted overwhelmingly TEAM BLUE.
Italian voted TEAM PINK. My mother-in-law announced that she did not need to vote, because she knew it was a girl. Hmm… Do I get to prove her wrong? 😉
To be continued…
*Thank you to the amazing Andrew for capturing the day!