This morning I accompanied my due-in-September wife to an ultrasound. We're not finding out what we're having, a decision we feel obligated to share with every doctor, nurse, ultrasound technician, and parking attendant.
(A roommate ruined The Sixth Sense for me halfway through. I've been overcompensating ever since.)
At the first ultrasound, I couldn't tell if we were looking at a baby or a newfangled weather map. There's no chance I could have figured out the gender. But now I'm not so... READ ON