Proof

Dear Ellen, below is proof that you were meant to mother a boy.






Recently having a little boy has meant things like finding a shriveled Cheerio in the poinsettia pot. Or a crayon in the bottom of my essential oil room freshener. It turned the whole bottle green. It means being handed a booger as if I wanted it, and waking up to my husband and son playing with Dad's old He Man characters.

I think, however, if we ever do have girls, we will be surprised by how similarly indelicate they are. They will probably still hand us their boogers. They'll just do it while wearing tutus.