Satire | Humor
I Love Being a #BoyMom to My Boyishly Masculine He-Boy!
Like sharks, if boys stop moving they will die
When I first learned I was expecting, my mind immediately jumped to pink tutus, Barbies, and mother-daughter spa days. I of course felt sorry for my husband, knowing how disappointed he would be — I only hoped he wouldn’t go Henry VIII on me, haha! But I couldn’t wait to meet my precious baby girl.
So when the smoke from our gender reveal cannon came out blue, I felt a bit shocked — and not just because of the six people who got blown up. A boy? First of all, how could I be having a boy when I was born a girl? I’m no scientist (that’s for boys, obviously), but something didn’t add up.
Second, how on earth was I supposed to raise a boy? I didn’t know anything about boys. For example, what did they eat? Could I simply buy some sort of kibble for him, or would he require live prey? And I hadn’t thought to pick out any boy names. What would I call him? Glurnk? Fimperton? Pugnus “The Chainsaw” Heavybones?
This new information made me so emotional that I had to spend the rest of the day in my Feelings Closet so as not to disturb my husband. (I mean, he had enough on his plate, what with battling all the wildfires caused by the cannon.)
