It was just over a year ago today that we found out you had a hotdog and not a turtle. Or is it a turtle and not a hotdog? Either way, we were having a boy. A Tyson, not a Lily.
When you're pregnant (not that you ever will be) nearly every other Mommy tells you that they totally knew what they were having before they knew what they were having. I totally didn't. Not a clue. 97% of the people I talked with seemed to think we were having a baby girl. Apparently they totally didn't know either.
I saw your hotdog/turtle first. You gave us the money shot within seconds. Come to think of it, you weren't very shy with the goods-let's try and not make a habit out of that.
I knew before Daddy, before Grandma and Grandpa, and maybe even before the Ultrasound Tech. For a few brief seconds we shared a special little secret. You were a boy! You were going to play tee-ball and jump in puddles. You'd go fishing with Grandpa and hunt for frogs with your cousins. You'd build forts with signs that say, "No girls allowed!" You'd come home dirty. You'd play cops and robbers with your friends and get in trouble. You'd get your heart broken. You'd break hearts. You'd ask a girl to prom and probably get in trouble again. You'd ask a girl to marry you and maybe one day you'd be lucky enough to see your own little hotdog or turtle.
You were a boy. My little boy.
It's amazing how one hotdog/turtle can change your life forever.
PS-To accurately reflect the day, I should also note that I did cry at dinner when I realized that having a boy meant that at some point you'll probably like playing with Daddy much more than playing with Mommy.
PPS-I may have also pouted when I saw how cute some of the girl outfits were.
PPPS-Seriously, is it a hotdog or a turtle? I'm too lazy to look it up.