BBC Update

There is news on BBC (Baby Barron C). Initially, I was trying to write this post so you had to read with a cockney accent... you know, so the whole BBC joke sort of came together, but it was too far to go for lame joke.

First, our ADB (anticipated date of birth) is June 14th. But since we're planning on a C-section, 06-07-08 is not out of the question.

We also know the sex of BBC. With the twins, I vacillated about whether or not we should know the sex; but there are so many more surprises, the least we can do is get the new nursery’s color right.

And truth be told, we’ve known the sex for more than three weeks, but I’ve been holding on to the information to spite my little sister, Tintin.

When she learned that we were going for the all important 16-week check up and ultrasound, she immediately told me I had to call her when we found out the sex. Had to?

I don’t have to do anything. Besides, that’s the whole point of the blog. HowAboutTwo? was started, in part, to keep everyone informed about the goings on with the our first pregnancy.

“No, no, no…” Tintin complained. “The blog’s for other people. I’m family.” I countered that if I told all family members via phone, I would be on the phone for a month.

This wheedling went on for days and would still be going on except Tintin did an end-around and asked P.Pie directly. To my chagrin, P.Pie spilled the beans. Fortunately, I plan for just such an emergency by keeping a trick or two up my sleeve.

You may recall that as children, I tormented my sister; I wove convincing tales of doom and gloom that, no matter how fantastical, she always believed. Now well into our 30s, and she with multiple higher education degrees, my little sister can still fall for a good con.

When she called to tell me that P.Pie had already told her the gender of BBC, I acted as if it all part of the plan; I laughed knowingly.

“Oh yeah?” I replied, the smugness practically dripping off my lips. “What did she tell you?”

My nonchalance threw her off. “What? What do you mean?” She stammered. “You know… Right?”

She was nibbling on the bait, but I really wanted to set the hook. “I knew you were going to try and get the information directly from P.Pie,” I lied. “So I told her to pull the wool over your eyes and make you read the blog.”

“No you didn’t.”

“Yes. I did.

“I don’t believe you.” But the slight quake in her voice told me she was afraid I was telling the truth.

So here’s the truth (which you knew all along, Tintin) – BBC is a boy. At least, that’s what the ultrasound technician thinks.

Here’s a couple of images; tell me what you think, guv'nah (see, the cockney thing written out just doesn't work).

Apparently he was twisting his head when this ultrasound was taken and he is not an "Alien".

This one looks like he's giving us the finger... I wouldn't expect anything less from my boy.